


I Am

by onceahuskyalwaysahusky



Category: Glee
Genre: Best Friends, Coming Out, Dalton Academy, Friendship/Love, Gay Bashing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Middle School Niff, Niff, Oblivious Niff, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceahuskyalwaysahusky/pseuds/onceahuskyalwaysahusky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a grueling week at Dalton Academy, Nick Duval needs some serious down time. But when his mom calls to tell him his best friend Jeff is hurt, he's on the first flight home. On the plane, he remembers a letter he'd gotten (and forgotten) that day that looks like it's from Jeff. When he opens it, his world is turned upside down. Niff. (TW: homophobic slurs, gay bashing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letter To A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the OCs, in my head Brock Baker plays Cameron, Nathan Kress is Andy, and Lucas Till is Seth.

Nick Duval was having a pretty good day.

First of all, it was Friday. After the grueling week he'd had ( _four tests_ and _a friggin' paper!)_ this Dalton Academy eighth-grader was  _so_  looking forward to just vegging out in his room and watching  _Doctor Who_ DVDs the whole weekend.  _Just me and the TV. Sounds like a plan._

Second, Mr. Harman had handed back the Science tests today. He'd gotten a 98. Poor Buzz Walsh had only gotten a 96 _._ Which put Nick one up on his Science-class rival.  _Sweet!_

Third, it was fifth period. Lunch.

On his way to the dining hall, Nick decided to detour across the quad to the admin building. Walking across the polished marble floor, he passed under the wrought-iron chandelier in the opulent main entrance hall on his way to the rather less impressive student mailroom.

Cool. He'd actually gotten something. Three envelopes.

Pulling on his red knit hat, he left Dalton Hall and stepped back outside into the bitter November afternoon. As he walked he started tearing open the largest. It was from Dalton. Another reminder to the boarding students that they had until November 14th to inform the Residential Life Office whether or not they would be remaining on campus for the upcoming Thanksgiving break.  _Thanks_ _―_ _already did, guys. BTW, I'_ _m not._ The second was an application for a Visa card.  _Jeez, I'm only thirteen; a little early, dontcha think?_

The third was a cream-colored envelope with a computer-printed address label:

 _Nick Duval_  
_c/o Dalton Academy_  
_Poe Residence Hall_  
_Edgerstoune Rd_  
_Westerville OH 43081_

Hmm. It wasn't from his mom or dad; they would've addressed it by hand. He turned it over; the return address was embossed on the back flap:

 _Sterling_  
_27 Benjamin Trail_  
_Fox Chapel PA 15238_

_Jeff?_

Jeff Sterling and Nick Duval had been best friends since kindergarten. While Nick was in Ohio boarding at Dalton Academy, Jeff was back home in Pennsylvania attending the local junior high. Next year, he said, his parents planned on sending him to private school. (Or military school, his father jokingly threatened, if Jeff didn't lose the attitude.) The two boys had talked about Jeff applying to Dalton and how  _awesome_  it would be for him to go there, too―in spite of the dorky uniforms.

Nick sat down on a marble bench, one of dozens scattered all over campus. A different Latin word was carved into the seat of each one. This particular bench was  _"Fraternitas"_ : brotherhood.

He stared at the envelope. It was too weird _._ He and Jeff texted and e-mailed all the time. Why would Jeff  _write_ and mail a  _letter?_ Shrugging, he eased his thumb under the flap to tear―

"Hey,  _Duval!"_

Startled, he looked up to see fellow middle-schoolers Cameron James, Andy Stewart and Seth Wheaton walking down the sidewalk toward him. As usual, Seth was trying to be the tough jock by wearing just his school blazer and a muffler around his neck instead of a winter coat like the rest of them.

"S'up, Brainiac," Cameron laughed as he playfully jerked Nick's hat down over his face.

Nick pushed the hat up out of his eyes, blowing fuzz off his lips as he smirked, "James, you are  _such_  a waste of flesh."

"Come on, man, let's hit the caf," Andy said as he dragged Nick to his feet. "Unless you wanna freeze your nuts off out here, sittin' on ol'  _Fraternitas_."

"Dude, you shoulda seen it," a grinning Seth was telling Cam as they resumed walking. "I thought Walsh was gonna  _freak_  when Old Man Harman announced that our boy Nicky here got that ninety-eight!" he crowed.

Impressed, Cam whistled. "Nick the  _Man!"_ He held his fist out to Nick.

Nick bumped it, basking in the attention; he thought it was funny how their friends were more invested in the great "Duval-Walsh rivalry" than Nick and Buzz themselves.

Sitting down with their trays in the noisy dining hall, Seth told them Chuck Vollmer was going to tomorrow's Ohio State away game in Evanston. Which sparked a lively debate on how badly the Buckeyes were going to slaughter the Wildcats. Laughing, Nick joined in, spouting stats on the Ohio State defense.

He opened his backpack and slid the envelope inside his copy of  _Great Expectations_. He'd definitely read it next period during Math.

 

* * *

 

After school was finally over, Nick dragged his tired ass back to his room.

Dropping his backpack down by the door, he blew out a loud and disgusted deep breath. The afternoon had taken an interesting turn after his Math teacher had ambushed the class with a pop quiz.  _Pop quiz? More like a pop_  test!  _Totally not cool on a Friday._

 _Hey, you know what? It's whatever. The week of hell is officially over._ His coat and blazer were quickly shucked. His hat came off with a crackle of static electricity and he winced as tiny shocks pinpricked his scalp. Glancing around, it looked like his roommate had already cleared out for the weekend. (Now that his parents had separated, Scott went home to Cincinnati every Friday to see his mom.)

As he unknotted his red-and-navy-striped tie, there was a little niggling thought in the back of his mind. Like he'd forgotten something. "I hate when this happens," he mumbled to himself, opening his laptop and double-checking his assignment schedule.  _C'mon,_   _Duval,_ please _tell me you didn't forget―_

That was when he noticed his Droid sitting in its dock on the desk―with the little green light flashing. Crap. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind this morning.

After swiping the screen to unlock it, he saw:  _Missed calls: 5 - Voice messages: 3_

All the calls were from the same number:  _Home_

Nick scrolled through his contacts and hit the "Home" icon. His mother answered after the first ring. "Nick?"

"Yeah, Mom, hi. Sorry, I forgot my phone in my room and I just came in and―"

"Honey, did you listen to the messages I left?" She sounded kind of serious; normally she would have started off asking how his day had gone and if he was eating okay and other inane Mom-questions.

Even though she couldn't see him, Nick shook his head. "No. Why?"

"You need to come home, hon. Tonight. I've already spoken to the headmaster. You're booked on a flight to Pittsburgh and―"

"Whoa, Mom, slow down! What's wrong?" Nick interrupted. His mother's tone made him think about his father's high blood pressure and his stomach began to clench. "Is...Dad okay?"

"Dad is fine. It's nothing like that, don't worry," she assured him, her voice softening. "Now, the flight leaves at five-ten, so you have to hurry." ( _Uh, ya think?_ Nick's brain quipped as he glanced at the time: 3:19pm.) "You don't need to pack. Mr. Donaldson said he'll have one of the teachers drive you to the airport, so―"

 _Screw Mr. Donaldson!_ "Mom," Nick said, his voice rising in pitch as he repeated, "what's  _wrong?"_

There was a pause, then: "Honey, please don't worry because he's going to be all right, but...Jeff's been hurt."

 _WHAT?!_ "How bad?"

"He'll probably have to stay in the hospital overnight, but he  _is_ okay. Don't worry."

 _Just answer me!_ "Please stop saying 'don't worry'! What happened?" Nick nervously ran his free hand through his hair.

Another pause. "I think he wants to tell you himself."

 _What the hell?_ "Are you kidding me?" When had he beamed into a bad  _Star Trek_  episode? Like those times the captain was off the bridge when something happened; he'd call for a report only to have some idiot respond with something like  _"Duh...you need to come and see this for yourself, sir"_  instead. If he'd been Kirk or Picard or Sisko, he've gone and seen―then kicked the ass of whoever hadn't given him a straight answer.  _You paying attention, Mom?_

"Uh, Nick, hold on...Mr. Donaldson just texted me. Mr. Sawyer is waiting for you outside your dorm. I'm sure the traffic in Columbus'll be bad this time of day, so you better get going. See you soon."

"Right, okay, Mom," he said abruptly and hung up the phone, trying to keep back his emotions.  _Get a grip. Just get a grip._

For no reason, he took his tie and stuffed it in his pocket along with his cell. Then picked up his backpack (again, getting that _weird_  feeling he was forgetting something, but there was no time to worry about that now), threw in his iPod, zipped it closed and slung it over his shoulder.

His grip was failing fast. Grabbing his blazer and overcoat on the way out, he locked the door behind him and ran for the stairs.

 

* * *

 

Nick sat silently in the back seat nervously jiggling his leg as the car passed through the main gate and onto the road to Westerville. Mr. Sawyer had given up trying to talk to him after three attempts at conversation went unanswered.

His mind was whirling.  _Great day to forget your phone, you idiot!_ _Jeff's "been hurt" she said. Hurt how? And how bad? Bad enough that I'm flying home. Bad enough that he's in the friggin' hospital. But she said he's gonna be okay. And he wants to tell me what happened_ himself.  _What the hell is_ that _all about? Unless..._

 _Did he try to...hurt himself?_ A chill ran down Nick's spine and prickled through his whole body.

Jeff had come out during the summer. First to Nick, then to his family―who, thank God, had been totally accepting and supportive. He'd told their friends two months ago, on the first day of school, with mixed results from what Nick had been told. But the taunts and cold shoulders that started when the word had spread were minor and manageable. Besides, as the man himself would say, Jeff Sterling didn't take no shit off  _nobody_ ; he wasn't gonna let a few random assholes get him down.

_Had something changed?_

With a lump rising in his throat, Nick called Jeff's phone. He could've had it with him, even in the hospital, right? It went right to voicemail. He tried again. Same thing.

He started texting. Sent ten, each one a little more insistent than the one before, starting with  _Sup dude?_ and ending with  _Pick up ur fucking fone RITE NOW u jerk!_

No reply. Shit.

Nick pulled out his tie, slipped it around his neck, and concentrated on tying it properly to keep his mind off freaking out. Looking out the car window, he was relieved to see signs for Port Columbus International Airport. That is, until they rounded a bend and ran into a sea of slow moving red tail lights stretching down I-270 as far as he could see.

Mr. Sawyer swore softly under his breath.

After finally reaching the airport― _freakin'_ _traffic!_ _―_ Nick and his teacher hustled through the terminal. They were escorted through security in record time and Nick nervously paced during the short wait at the gate. He tried Jeff's phone again. Still no answer. Then a smiling airline representative came over and directed him to board the plane ahead of the other passengers.

A flight attendant named Kaitlin showed him to his seat. She fussed over him, taking his coat and making sure he was properly buckled in. Nick tried to smile but all this special attention was really getting on his nerves. All he wanted was to get home and find out  _WHAT THE FUCK_ was going on.

_Chill, Nicky boy, just chill..._

Finally, the plane was taxiing away from the terminal. While Nick wasn't afraid to fly, take-offs didn't exactly thrill him. He checked to make sure no one was watching, then unzipped his backpack and pulled out his iPod. He didn't care about the rules; he needed to relax, to lose himself in some tunes.

After jamming in his ear buds, he dialed up a song from his playlist at random: Bon Jovi's "I Am". Nick smiled. He'd driven Jeff crazy over the summer by playing the  _Have A Nice Day_ album on constant repeat. Alternating with the classic  _Slippery When Wet,_ of course.

"How you spend your minutes are what matters  
All tomorrows come from yesterdays  
When you're feelin' broke and bruised  
And sometimes shattered  
Blow out the candles on the cake  
Like everything's a big mistake"

As the plane began accelerating down the runway, he closed his eyes. His mind began to wander and he remembered...

 _...how he and Jeff met when they were five. His daddy's job had gotten way bigger and he was now gonna work in a place called Pittsburgh. So, during the summer time, Nick's family moved from Texas to Pennsylvania. Nick was super excited about seeing_ real _snow for the first time in his life this winter. But also really scared about starting school next month in a new place where he didn't know_ anybody _._

_Nick sat on the front porch, trying to stay out of the way as the mover-men carried stuff into the new house. He was holding the Buzz Lightyear action figure that was his best friend now. He looked over at the house next door―and saw someone there looking back at him._

_It was a boy: his age, skinny, with a light blond crew-cut. He was crouched down on his own porch, peeking through the railing as he stared at Nick._

_Nick, who was_ _really_  really _shy around strangers, blushed and ran inside._

_When his mommy took Nick to the first day of kindergarten, the same boy was there and assigned the seat next to him. His name was Jeff S. and he had on a Buzz Lightyear shirt. He smiled a big smile with one tooth gone and Nick smiled back..._

"It seems you always wait for life to happen  
And your last buck can't buy a lucky break  
If all we've got is us, then life's worth livin'  
And if you're in, you know I'm in  
I'm ready and I'm willin'  
I am"

 _...when they were seven, and Nick was shoved around a lot on the playground because he was smaller than most of the other boys. He was starting to really_ hate _recess._

_Stuart Slater was being a bigger jerk than normal today and he'd just pushed Nick off his swing. Nick hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could do anything, Jeffy came barreling over, screaming, "I got yer back, Nicky!"_

_Then Jeffy tackled Stuart to the ground and pinned him down until Stuart told Nick he was sorry. But after recess_   _Jeffy_   _was the one who got put on the time-out chair. No fair! Nick felt guilty, but Jeffy just hummed to himself and stuck his tongue out at mean old Mrs. Masonis when she wasn't looking..._

"When you think that no one needs you  
Sees you or believes you  
No one's there to understand  
I am

"I'll be there to be that someone  
When you think that no one  
Is there to hold your hand  
I am"

_...when they were ten and Jeff's father took their Cub Scout troop camping. After a busy day of activities, the guys were ready to hit the sack. When they were sure everyone else was asleep, Nick and Jeff snuck off._

_After hiking along the shore of the lake for about a quarter of a mile, they decided to stop. Sitting Indian-style on a flat-topped boulder, Jeff took out his Swiss Army knife as he directed Nick to sit opposite him. He then pulled out the largest blade and made a small cut in the palm of his own right hand first, then Nick's._ _They pressed their bleeding palms together as they clasped hands, Jeff saying all serious-like how they were blood brothers―now and forever._

 _Then, Nick spoke a few words in Klingon. After he explained he'd just performed_ R'uustai _, the bonding ritual that united their two houses, Jeff just laughed. "Same difference, you big dork!" he smirked as he ruffled Nick's hair..._

"We're just who we are, there's no pretendin'  
It takes a while to learn to live in your own skin  
Say a prayer that we might find our happy endin'  
And if you're in, you know I'm in  
I'm ready and I'm willin'  
I am"

_...when they were thirteen and, after his first year away at Dalton Academy, Nick came home for the summer to find his best friend all quiet and weird._

_The first thing he'd done was go next door to the Sterlings. After a big hug from Jeff's mom, Nick ran upstairs to Jeff's room. He'd b_ _raced himself for the usual tackle-hug and stream of excited chatter, but_ _Jeff just sat there, saying hello and not much else. It got so awkward that Nick, hoping to get a laugh, joked about him_ please  _not going emo because there was no way Jeff could ever rock dyed-black hair._

_Jeff didn't even smile. He told Nick he'd be okay, that he had to work his head around something._

_This went on for days. No jokes. No smart-aleck remarks. No horsing around. This wasn't normal. (Normal Jeff was kind of like Chandler from_ Friends _ _―if_  Chandler had also had a temper and a major 'tude at times.) _ _When Jeff started avoiding him, Nick got scared_ _. His seventh-grade health class at Dalton had included lectures on teenage depression, self-harm and suicide. And Jeff was fitting the profiles._

"When you think that no one needs you  
Sees you or believes you  
No one's there to understand  
I am

"I'll be there to be that someone  
When you think that no one  
Is there to hold your hand  
I am..."

 _Nick wasted no time confronting Jeff, cornering him alone in the Sterlings' pool house. And Jeff—who_ never _had a problem speaking his mind―got all red-faced and stuttery. Looking down at the ground with watery eyes, he told Nick that he'd been afraid to tell him what was going on 'cause he didn't know how Nick would react...and that he couldn't stand it if he lost his best friend 'cause they'd never talked about anything like this before...so he didn't know if Nick would hate him because..._

_...he'd started to think that he might be...kinda...gay._

_After about five seconds of silence, the quiet_ _and sensitive Nick reached out _..._ and whacked Jeff on the back of the head. "There's nothing in the world that could _ever _make me hate you, you jerk!" His eyes welling, he went on, saying it didn't matter to him if Jeff wanted to fuck boys or girls or Klingon_ targs; _to him, he would always be "just Jeff"_ _―_ _his best friend in the multiverse._

 _Nick pulled Jeff into a tight hug and the tears Jeff had been fighting started to flow. "Y-you big dork," he whispered into Nick's shoulder _―then__ _suddenly and inexplicably cracked up. When he said it was because this was the first time he'd ever heard Nick say "fuck" out loud, Nick started to laugh as well..._

"This ain't a song for the broken-hearted  
No silent prayer for faith departed"

_Huh?_

Nick's head jolted up after his brain realized he was listening to the percussive intro to "It's My Life". And that he'd been napping for about half an hour. He looked out the window and saw a cluster of lights that was some town in eastern Ohio gleaming in the darkness below.

As Nick stretched his legs, he accidentally knocked over his backpack; he'd left it unzipped and his school books spilled out.  _Smooth, you klutz._

Then he saw it. What he'd forgotten.

The unopened envelope. From Jeff. Sticking out of  _Great Expectations_.

Nick slid it free and placed it on his tray table. He just stared at it, chewing on his lower lip. Could it be a...suicide note?  _Sorry, best buddy and life-long pal, but life sucks and I've decided to off myself..._

He felt his stomach twist into a knot. So _not funny, Duval._

No. Not a letter. That wasn't Jeff's style. When he did something, he did it big. And loud. And obnoxious _._ Like the way Jeff told him he'd come out to their friends on the first day of school...

 _...the guys had decided to eat lunch outside on the bleachers. Halfway through he'd stood up and turned his back to them. "There's something I want to tell you guys, but y'know I'm not real good with words, so..." After unzipping his hoodie, he spun back around, pulling it wide open to reveal a custom-made graphic tee:_ Yo! Listen up, bitches―I'M GAY! _printed in rainbow-striped sixties-style psychedelic letters._

 _Nick had been sitting in his Math class at Dalton when the guys back home started blowing up his phone. Text after text after text, all saying something like_  Did u kno Jeff is gay? _Then a picture arrived, courtesy of Glen Karlsons, showing_ _a smirking Jeff wearing that shirt while saluting the camera with his middle finger._ _Nick actually facepalmed himself. He worried that Jeff had been too crazy, that there'd be some kind of backlash―_

 _―and you're_ stalling _...just open it._

He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents: two folded sheets of cheap ruled paper―like the kind they used in grammar school―with words in school-child cursive written in pencil.  _WTF?_ He put on his glasses.

It  _was_  a letter. Written by Jeff's eight year old sister Jane.

_Nov 1st, 2008_

_Dear Nicky,_

_How are you? I hope school is good. After he visited you Jeffy said that Dalten looks like Hogwarts. That is so cool. Did you know since you let your hair grow long you look like Harry Potter when you ware your glasses and your school jackit? I hope you have an owl so you can get my letter. Ha ha!_

_We all miss you. Specialy Jeffy. Why do you go to school all the way in Ohio? Jeffy says it's because Dalten is alot nicer than his is. I guess he's right because he always is saying his school sucks. (BTW Jeffy says that is not a sware word.)_

_It is Make A Diffrence Week at school. We have to bring in can food and clothes for the home-less. My teacher wants us to write a letter to a person who can make a diffrence in the world. Most of my friends wrote the President to ask him to fix the country so that all kids in the USA have food and a place to live. My BFF Molly is writing to the Pope in Italy and asking him to stop the War because her brother Rick in the Army is in a dangerus place called I-rak._

_I wrote a letter to the President for homework. But I also wrote this one to ask for your help. Dont tell Jeffy. He woud get mad if he found out._

He finished the first page, more than a little puzzled. Though Jeff's baby sister treated Nick like a second brother, he couldn't figure out how or why Janey thought that he, a thirteen-year-old dork from western Pennsylvania, could help make a "diffrence" in the world?

The second page answered everything.

_Jeffy doesnt smile or tell jokes anymore. He is sad all the time and cries when (he thinks) noone can see. Jen and Jill tell him to call you about what's going on or they will. But he shouts at them and says don't tell Nicky about this stuff or he will kick their butts. (He didnt say stuff or butts. You can guess what he realy did say I bet.)_

_You guys are BFF, Nicky. Please come home.  It woud make a big diffrence if Jeffy had one friend here who won't punch him because he is gay._

_Your next door little sister,_

_Janey Sterling XOXOXO_

_P.S. I printed the adress sticker for Dalten from Jeffy's computer. Don't tell._

The bottom half of the page contained a child's crayon drawing of a face. A frowning boy with light yellow hair and a tear drop falling from his right eye.

The left eye had an ugly purple circle scribbled around it.

_Oh, God._

Nick sat there, feeling like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.

He'd had no idea. Why hadn't Jeff told him? Why hadn't  _any_  of his old friends told him? And, for that matter, where the hell  _were_ Glen and Keith and Danny during all this?  _Or had they joined the mother-fucking assholes that were kicking the shit outta_ _―_ _?_

He jumped when a hand touched his shoulder. "Sweetie, are you okay?" The flight attendant was looking down at him with a concerned expression. It wasn't until he heard a faint  _tap...tap-tap_  sound that Nick realized tears were spilling down his cheeks and dropping onto the paper in his hands.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Ducking his head, Nick blindly tore open his seat belt with one hand. Gripping the letter in the other, he sprinted for the bathroom. After securing the latch, he half-sat, half-slid down on the floor.

He slammed his fist into the wall. An innocent freakin'  _third grader_ had had to tell him his best friend was in crisis. He felt sick to his stomach.

After another look at Janey's picture, he  _lost_ it―

 _Oh my God ohmygodOHMYFUCKINGOD! Why didn't I know 'cause I_ shoulda _known something was wrong with my best friend. I talked to him like_ all _the time and the jerk never said anything (except there was some shoving and a couple kids called him "fag" and once someone tripped him in the caf) but_ never _anything about_ punching _or_ bruises _and all his texts were jokey and funny_

_and THEY PUT HIM IN THE HOSPITAL and how bad was he hurt and WHY can't he ever admit he needs help I mean he almost failed Math in the fifth grade before he told me_

_and he knows I joined the Gay-Straight Alliance at Dalton this year (and did I ever ask if there was one at his school) and did we ever talk about The Trevor Project 'cause I shoulda given him the number 'cause what if he NEEDED the number 'cause he didn't wanna talk to me 'cause he ALWAYS fucking protected_ me _from bullies_

 _and what am I doin' off at Hot-Shit Academy while_ my best friend's  _getting fucking WHALED ON because he_ like _-likes guys and what's fucking wrong with that 'cause he never fucking hurt anybody and _―__ _o_ _h, crap _―__

He lunged for the toilet as he literally lost his lunch.

After he was all puked out, Nick gradually became aware that someone was knocking on the door. "Are you all right in there?" a deep male voice was calling. After a brief pause, there was another fusillade of knocks, then: "Son, I need you to unlock this door.  _Now_."

Nick tried to pull himself together. "Just a minute," he replied, his voice hoarse.

He slowly got to his feet and looked at himself in the tiny mirror over the sink; his tear-stained face was swollen and his hair was sticking out in every direction. After trying to make himself as presentable as possible, he opened the door.

Standing outside was a tall man in a uniform who must have been the co-pilot or something; Kaitlin the flight attendant hovered behind him looking worried.

The man scoped out the tiny lavatory then stared intently at Nick. "Son, are you okay?"

 _Probably thinks I've been cutting or something._  When he finally nodded, the man said, "Better take your seat, young man. We'll be starting our descent into Pittsburgh in about five minutes."

Nick trudged back to his seat hugging himself. He felt like everyone was staring at him.

_Screw you all. Just get me home._

 

* * *

 

Standing in the emergency room, Nick remembered how much he hated hospitals. Biting his lip, he just stared at the curtains drawn around the treatment bay the nurse had led him to. Finally, he took a deep breath and stepped inside the wall of fabric.

Jeff was resting, his eyes closed. The hospital bed was adjusted so that he was practically sitting upright.

His left eye was blackened and swollen almost shut. A bandage covered his nose. He had a busted lip and angry splashes of purple and red dappling his forehead and jaw. His right arm was casted and in a sling. And, though wrapped in gauze, Nick could see the knuckles of both of Jeff's hands were bruised and raw.

Nick felt his eyes burning.  _Oh, God_. His breath hitched.

Jeff must've heard him; he opened his eyes and murmured, "Nicky..."

"Hey," Nick said in a small voice, quickly brushing any tears away with his fingertips.

"Fix yer tie, Dalton boy, or iss ten demerits," Jeff kidded. Between the fat lip and the pain medication, his speech was slurred. "Y' look like shit."

Nick automatically adjusted his loosened tie. Trying to keep things light, he quipped, "Look who's talking."

"Yeh. Guess ya know wha' happened. Iss not as bad as it looks. You shoulda seen th' udder guys." The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile.

Nick sat down in the bedside chair and forced a smile. "I'll bet."

"Hafta stay t'night...sumpin 'bout obs'vation. Leas' I gots me a few days offa school...an' some pretty awesome drugs." A hollow chuckle. "Jus' fer bein' a gay punchin' bag."

Nick's stomach twisted. "I-I'm sorry, Jeff. I shoulda been here..."

"Doan be stupit. Thass why I dinnit wan' y' t' know." Jeff raised his head, trying to focus on Nick's face. "I...I let 'em get t' me, Nicky. Punched tha' dickhead Stu Slater fer callin' me a..." His voice cracked. "...'bout a month ago. Thass when they started..."

Nick had spoken with Jeff's sisters in the waiting room. Jen and Jill had told him everything Jeff hadn't. How things at school had started with name-calling and shoving the day after he'd come out to the guys there. And, when Jeff dared to blast back with some smart-ass insults of his own, how the fuckers had stepped up their game—endless rounds of taunting and vicious locker-slams and the like. Until the short-tempered Jeff cracked and lashed out at the ringleader.

That's when the fists had started flying. Like the bullies, in their twisted reasoning, had all the excuse they needed to  _really_  punish Jeff once he'd decked Stuart Slater. To put the "little faggot" in his place. Jeff being Jeff, he'd tried to deal with it on his own, not telling his parents, hiding the bruises with concealer and sunglasses and stuff.

And as for Glen and the rest of their friends, they'd tried to step up. But when harassed and asked if  _they_  had turned gay, too, they'd suddenly made themselves scarce...

Jeff laid his head back on the pillow. "Wussen too bad a' firs'. Jus' normal fights. T'day...bunch of 'em ganged up on me...locker room affer gym...said I wus look'n a' their junk." He made an amused noise. "They wish." His eyelids began to droop. "Mm so tired..."

"It's okay, I'm here." Nick gently gripped Jeff's free hand, avoiding his split knuckles.

"Mmm-hmm. Mm glad." Jeff turned his head and looked at Nick with drug-glazed hazel eyes. "Y'know...missed ya, y' big dork..."

"Me, too."

He closed his eyes. "Mm gonna sleep now. Doan go 'way," he mumbled, sounding five years old again.

Nick sat there, trying to hold it together. He wasn't going to fall apart, not here. Blinking back his tears, he remembered the song on the plane and started to sing in a quavering voice.

"When you think that no one needs you  
Sees you or believes you  
No one's there to understand  
I am"

As he continued, his voice steadied and richened in tone. Jeff made another amused sound and mumbled something Nick couldn't make out. Probably something sarcastic about Bon Jovi; Jeff didn't quite...appreciate the group as much as Nick did.

"I'll be there to be that someone  
When you think that no one  
Is there to hold your hand  
I am

"And I ain't got no halo hangin' over my head  
I ain't gonna judge you, I'm just here to love you  
I am  
I aaaam..."

Nick gently squeezed Jeff's hand after the other boy finally drifted off.  _I've got_  your _back_   _now, buddy. More than you know._

William Duval, a prominent Dalton alum, had made several urgent calls that afternoon to the headmaster and director of admissions at his _alma mater_  on behalf of the Sterlings. Nick had no idea how he'd done it, but his dad had pulled every string pullable to get Jeff enrolled there mid-semester.

He shifted in the chair, making himself more comfortable. Tomorrow, he'd get to tell Jeff that as soon as he was better he'd be going to Dalton―with its uniforms and curfews and rules and traditions that he was gonna absolutely  _hate_.

 _Yeah,_  Nick mused _, tomorrow was gonna be a pretty good day._

 

* * *

 

Three weeks later, Nick was freezing his nads off waiting outside Edgerstoune Hall. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving break. Uniformed boys were pouring out of the dormitory, chattering and laughing on their way to the dining hall for breakfast.

 _Jeez, man, come_  on _already!_

Of course Jeff was the last one out. He was talking with a sophomore named Wes Montgomery. The tall Asian boy had been assigned to be Jeff's "big brother" during his orientation.

Jeff's arm was still in a cast. The bruises were fading from his face and his nose had healed with a barely noticeable bump that he insisted made him look all rugged and sexy. Like a blond Hugh Jackman. Nick had laughed until his sides hurt when he'd first heard  _that_ delusion.

Seeing Nick waiting, the older boy smiled and moved off―but not before giving Jeff a friendly farewell clap on the back. It almost broke Nick's heart when he saw how Jeff still flinched whenever someone touched him.

_It'll pass. As soon as he gets it in his head that he's safe here._

Dalton Academy was known throughout the Midwest for its high scholastic standing and was always ranked in the top twenty-five on all the "Best Private Schools in the Country" lists. It also boasted a strictly-enforced zero-tolerance harassment policy, meaning there was no discrimination, no bullying, and no fighting allowed. Sure, teenage boys being teenage boys, there was a little generic trash talk and some harmless pranks. But nothing racial or homophobic―and certainly _nothing_  like what Jeff had experienced―would ever occur on this campus. The policy was drilled into the head of every new student the day he arrived.

Nick made a point of looking Jeff up and down, checking that his uniform was perfect.  _No need for him to get demerits on his first day. Knowing Jeff, he'll start racking 'em up soon enough._

"You're late," Nick huffed, giving Jeff the hairy eyeball.

Jeff stuck out his tongue. "Sor- _ree!_ That Wes guy can really talk."

"You'll  _really_  be sorry when there's nothing left but toast. There's, like,  _four_   _hundred_  guys ahead of us now thanks to you."

"Forty-five grand a year and I can't get a decent meal on my first day of classes?" Jeff rolled his eyes. "What a rip-off!"

Nick couldn't hold back his smile. "You get used to it. Welcome to Dalton Academy, Mr. Sterling."

Jeff reached inside his blazer and pulled out a pair of authentic  _Men In Black_  Ray-Bans. "With all due respect, Mr. Duval, your academy sucks!" he proclaimed as he one-handedly whipped open the sunglasses and put them on.

 _This is gonna be interesting,_ Nick thought as he slipped on his own Ray-Ban Predators.  _Wonder if these are on the dress code? Oh, well.._. _as the Doctor would say:_  allons-y _!_  He stepped aside and, with an exaggerated flourish, gestured for Jeff to start walking. "After you, you jerk."

Jeff stuck his nose up in the air as he said, "Why, thank you, you big dork."

The two boys laughed as they set off across the campus.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT UP: Freshman year and the arrival of Blaine Anderson...
> 
> A/N: I know that some readers will think that this story should be Blaine Anderson's, but I belong to the camp that believes that Blaine's Sadie Hawkins Dance experience was much worse that this...


	2. Everybody's Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains descriptions of a violent assault.
> 
> Regarding my OC's, Hayden Christensen (circa Revenge of the Sith) plays Shane, Brant Daugherty is Duncan, Chuck Hittinger is Ken Stevenson, and Justin Tinucci is Ward. I've posted some pics on my tumblr, where I'm "iwannabeastarshipcaptain".

Jeff Sterling was having a pretty crappy day.

First, it was the end of summer and he and Nick were headed back to Dalton Academy for their freshman year. _H_ _ip hip freakin' hooray._ As far as Jeff was concerned, it was still summer vacation and he should still be in bed, but, no, his dad insisted on getting an early start. And _why?_ Because with all the traffic and road construction, what should've been a five-hour drive to Westerville looked like it was going to take at least _seven.  
_

Second, he'd forgotten to charge his iPod. They were sharing Nick's and he was playing _every_ Bon Jovi song ever recorded. Leaving Jeff no choice but to dangle it out the Mountaineer's window while moving at 70 miles an hour until Nick agreed to pick something else.

Finally, when they'd made it to Dalton and checked in, Jeff and Nick found out their request to room together this year had been denied by the morons in the Residential Life Office. _WTF?_

At least they were both living in Poe Hall this year. Checking the room assignment list, they saw that Nick was in room 404 with Ward Brandt, who was pretty cool. Jeff was right across the hall in 405.

With some new kid named Blaine Anderson.

Jeff couldn't help rolling his eyes. Blaine. Probably some country-club snob with a trust fund and a snooty accent like Marion Moseby on _The Suite Life._ (Not that he ever _really_ watched that show.)

After helping unload the car, Jeff marched over to the admin building to arrange a body-swap between Nick and this Blaine. The kind-faced secretary in the front office referred him to the dean of students.  Mr. Kirscher ushered Jeff into his office and made him wait as he pulled a file out of a drawer and skimmed the contents. Then smiled condescendingly at the determined fourteen-year-old and stated that "everything happens for a reason." He and Blaine Anderson had a great deal in common, he continued, and that, if Jeff would just give it a chance, he expected they would be "great friends" in no time.

 _Yeah. Right._ The Dalton Academy 2009 Fall Semester was officially off to a craptastic start.

Jeff tried his best to convince Mr. Kirschner to change his mind, but the old man wouldn't budge. Realizing he was fighting a losing battle, Jeff let it go. Any more arguing and he could end up with detention before school even started. Walking back to the dorms, he wished Nick's dad had been here to take care of this. Being the big shot alum, Mr. Duval would have just snapped his fingers and Old Kirschner would've ruptured himself moving Blaine's stuff personally.

On his way out of the front office, Jeff had snagged a student directory from a stack on the credenza. Now he opened it to the A's so he could check out his new roommate.

 _Whoa._ _Not bad,_ Jeff had to admit when he saw the boy's picture _―_ curly dark hair, soulful eyes, bashful smile. _Kinda hot, as a matter of fact. Probably askin' too much that he's good looking_ and _gay, huh?_

Then Jeff shook his head. _Nuh-uh. You've never had a boyfriend before_ _—you_ _d_ _o_ not _start with your roommate._ _You're askin' for trouble._ He took another look. _Too bad. Trouble's never been this cute before..._

He started reading: _ **Anderson,** **Blaine D. Class of 2013. Home: Oakwood, Ohio. Date of Birth: 11/26/93.** _ Jeff paused to think, _Wait. Ninety-_ three _? That would make him fifteen, almost sixteen. And he's a_ freshman? _What's with that?_ _  
_

_**Sports: lacrosse, soccer.** Guess I'll see him at soccer tryouts Monday. **Personal interests: art, **boxing** ―**bullshit, bullshit, bullshit...wait― **m** **usic - vocal** **and** **instrumental**. Hm. Wonder if he's gonna try out for the Warblers, like Nicky and me?_

When he got back to the dorm, he found Nick hanging out in the big wood-paneled lounge and watching all the move-in mayhem with Cameron, Seth and Andy. Jeff greeted his fellow freshmen by shouting, "Wass _up,_ bitches! We is _upper_ -schoolers now!" Which started a round of hoots and hollers and high-fiving.

After things settled down, Nick asked, "Any luck?"

Jeff made a face. "Nah, Kirschner sucks." He handed Nick the open directory and pointed. "Here's the intel on my new roomie."

"Aw jeez, Jeff, you got a newbie, too?" Seth groaned. "Mine hasn't checked in yet."

"Mine has." Jeff had swung by the registration desk on his way back from Dalton Hall and checked.

The guys crowded around to read. At one point, Jeff saw Nick raise an eyebrow and knew his friend had noticed the age thing, too. When they finished, Jeff nudged Nick toward the stairs. Time to go meet Blaine. They told the others they'd catch up with them later.

"He sounds like a stiff," Cameron shouted after them. "Good luck!"

Threading his way through the busy fourth-floor hallway, Jeff saw the door to 405 was ajar. He pushed it open and it bumped up against what turned out to be a pile of designer luggage.

The room, though a little bigger than last year's, was typical: two twin beds, two desks, two chairs, two closets, and a double window opposite the door. When they'd carried their stuff upstairs earlier, Jeff had staked a claim by piling all his belongings on one bed.

Sitting dejectedly on the other was Blaine Anderson.

It was obviously the same boy in the photo, but...different. His face was drawn and unhappy...his eyes dull and downcast...and that sexy mop of curls _―_ _chill, Sterling! _―__ had been severely styled with way too much gel. And Jeff had guessed right; the kid was all dressed up for a day at "The Club"―Brooks Brothers polo, khakis, boat shoes and no socks. (Making Jeff, in a faded graphic tee and old cargo shorts, feel real ghetto.)

He glanced up at Jeff and Nick, looking like the last place he wanted to be was in this room. Feeling the other boy's discomfort, Jeff took the initiative. "Hey. Looks like we're roommates," he said, extending his hand. "Jeff Sterling."

Blaine stood and shyly took Jeff's hand. "Um, I-I'm Blaine. Anderson."

Nick stepped forward and smiled. "Nick Duval. I'm across the hall."

"Hi." Blaine's reply was barely audible as he shook hands with Nick.

After the introductions, Blaine just stared at the floor. Jeff wondered how shy could this guy be—

From down the hall came the _BANG!_ of someone slamming a door. Then the sound of boys running and shouting.

 _―_ and Jeff saw Blaine seriously _flinch,_ somehow managing to look pale in spite of his dark tan. When Nick instinctively reached out to him while asking, "Hey, you okay?" Blaine took a hasty step backward.

 _Like he thought Nicky might hurt him...what's his problem?_ Then Jeff thought about how _he'd_ acted last year when he'd first come to Dalton, after—

His phone vibrated in his pocket; Jeff pulled it out and read the text.

_Dad (Sat. 5:34pm): Dinner at McD or BK ok? Pick you guys up in 10 min. Be waiting._

After sending off a quick reply, Jeff broke the silence. "Just my dad. So...your parents still around?"

Blaine looked down as he mumbled, "No. I'm lucky they stopped the car long enough to let me get out."

Trading glances with Nick, Jeff wondered how someone could manage to sound both meek _and_ bitter at the same time. "Oh." _Okaaay..._ there's _a landmine we wanna avoid in the future: Blaine's parents._

He checked the time. "Nicky, Dad's comin' to take us to dinner, so, um..." he trailed off when Nick eye-gestured meaningfully toward Blaine, mouthing _Ask him_.

Jeff felt like a major tool for not thinking of it himself. Rubbing the back of his neck, he asked, "Hey, Blaine. Wanna come with us? Y'know, last chance for fast food and all that."

"No, thank you," Blaine replied softly.

"You sure? This is my third year here," Nick chimed in. "Trust me, it's gonna be nothing but cold cereal and box lunches 'til the full kitchen staff gets here Monday."

"And the pizza places around here that deliver _really_ suck," Jeff added.

He could see it in his eyes that Blaine was tempted, but in the end the timid boy shook his head glumly. "No. Um, I-I appreciate the offer, guys, really, but...no thanks. I've got to unpack anyway."

Jeff exchanged a look with Nick and shrugged. "Okay. Have fun with that."

Once they were waiting outside (and out of earshot of everyone), they started talking. About how Blaine seemed more than just shy. How the poor guy had reacted to the sound of that door slam and the horseplay afterward.

And most importantly, the way he'd pulled away when Nick tried to touch him.

Thinking back to last year, Jeff was sure the signs pointed to bullying. Serious bullying. Nick brought up the remark about the parents and wondered if he could be an abused child. Either way, it wasn't a pretty picture. They finished just as Jeff's dad pulled up to the curb.

When they were getting ready to leave McDonald's, Jeff decided to order something to take back with him. Whether Blaine liked it or not, he and Nick were going to be his "Welcome to Dalton" buddies.

 

* * *

 

He got back to his room and found himself alone. It looked like Blaine had been busy, though; the fancy plaid luggage was gone and clothes were neatly hung in his closet, arranged by type and color. _A neat freak. Great._ From what he could see, the guy was sadly addicted to Brooks Brothers. And golf sweaters. And...

 _God, no. Please tell me those aren't..._ Jeff grimaced when he saw the bow ties in an open drawer.

After leaving the bag of food and medium-sized Coke on Blaine's desk, Jeff glanced up at the items thumbtacked to the bulletin board above it. Blaine's class schedule. _(Jeez, dude;_ three _honors classes?)_ The Dalton contact directory. One small picture.

It was a posed studio portrait of a family. Solemn father and mother, wicked cute teenage brother, and a grinning three-year-old Blaine. Hm.

The only other personal item was a faded _"Happy 12th Birthday, Big Guy!"_ card pinned next to the photo. Jeff peeked inside to see it was from someone named "Coop" sending "Squirt" best wishes from LA.

 _Dude, enough snooping,_ he thought, feeling guilty. He unzipped his biggest suitcase and got down to unpacking. He was stuffing socks and underwear into the top drawer of his closet's built-in dresser when he heard the door open. Blaine was back. Obviously having visited the caf since he was carrying a box lunch in his hands.

Blaine sniffed the air, then saw the bag sitting on his desk. "You..."

"Welcome to Dalton Academy, Mr. Anderson." Jeff took the box from him and peered inside. _Gross. What's that even_ supposed _to be?_ He dropped it in the trash can, doubly glad he'd brought something back from Mickey D's. "Couldn't letcha eat this crap."

Jeff got a glimpse of that bashful smile he remembered from the directory photo. "Thanks...thanks a lot," Blaine said, opening the bag.

As Blaine dug in, Jeff tried to start a conversation. Between Blaine's shyness _and_ the fact that he flat out refused to talk with his mouth full, it was slow going. He eventually learned Blaine's hometown of Oakwood was near Dayton, that Blaine was a big fan of the Ohio State Buckeyes, and that he favored the Bengals over the Browns.

When the conversation stalled, he came to a decision. _Well, it's time for Jeffy to raise the rainbow flag..._

Jeff slid a poster out of its cardboard tube. He flattened it on his bed picture-side down and applied the Sticky Tack. Then hung it on the wall and stepped back to admire the view.

It was _Battlestar Galactica's_ Jamie Bamber wearing nothing but the towel he was holding in front of his crotch, his muscular body all wet and gorgeous.

Nick had given Jeff the poster for his birthday. After he'd noticed that, whenever they watched his _Galactica_ DVDs, Jeff seemed to stare holes in the screen whenever Bamber's character "Apollo" was on. Especially one episode, where an otherwise naked Apollo almost dropped his towel shaking hands with some reporter-type played by the Xena Warrior Princess chick.

Jeff folded his arms and waited for a response.

Blaine had just torn a bite out of his second cheeseburger when he noticed Jeff's stance. Then stopped mid-chew when he saw the poster. He stood, eyes focused on Bamber's ripped physique. "Uh," he swallowed, "that's..."

 _Were you gonna finish that sentence with "hot as hell," Squirt?_ "Dude's got a sick body, huh? Oh, by the way, did I forget to mention I'm gay?"

"Um..." Blaine slowly nodded; he looked like he was trying to muster up the courage to say something.

"Not gonna be a problem, is it?" Jeff smiled, looking the other boy right in the eye.

A flush crept up Blaine's face as he stammered, "N-no, not at all...that's not what I...it's just that..." After a pause, he said in a small voice, "...so'm I..."

 _No way. Did I hear that right?_ "What?"

Holding Jeff's gaze, Blaine actually spoke up. "So am I. Gay."

 _Way. Jeez, Sterling. Worst. Gaydar. Ever_. Hiding his surprise, Jeff kept it nonchalant and simply nodded. "Cool," he said and went back to his unpacking. As Blaine sat down to finish eating, Jeff couldn't help noticing the dazed look on his face. _Poor guy. It's like he's never said that before without someone going off on him._

 _Or worse,_ it then occurred to him.

He was hanging up his uniform jackets when he heard a polite throat-clear. "Uh, Jeff?"

Jeff turned to see Blaine giving him an uncertain look. "I was wondering...I know the school _says_ it has a zero-tolerance policy for...at least that what the brochures said. And th-the headmaster, too, during my interview. But so do other schools and it's just a bunch of talk, so..." He paused, nervously fiddling with the straw from his drink.

"Yeah?" Jeff prompted.

"I-I wanted to ask you...it is true?" He looked like he wanted to believe. But also like he didn't want to get his hopes up.

 _Definitely bullied._ "No worries, dude. It's true. For real. Trust me."

And for the first time since they'd met, Jeff saw Blaine sort of relax. He was almost...slouching. _Now if he'd just unbutton that top button_ and _wash the crap out of that adorable curly hair._ He was enjoying a mental picture of a messy-haired Blaine unbuttoning more than just a top button when he reminded himself, _Watch it, Jeffy! Roommate. Be good._

"Be right back." He went across the hall to update Nick. Nick wasn't there, but his roommate Ward, busy hooking up an Xbox, told Jeff he was in the bathroom.

He walked to the far end of the hallway and was almost knocked down when a sniggering Cam came running out of the bathroom door holding a towel. "James, you friggin' waste of flesh!" a familiar voice shouted from inside.

Jeff found Nick standing at one of the sinks and rubbing his ass where Cameron had no doubt just towel-snapped it. "Aww, does widdle Nicky gots a boo-boo?" he asked mockingly.

"Yeah. Why dontcha kiss it and make it feel better?" Nick pouted while suggestively waggling his backside.

"Sorry, bud, but that ass is _way_ too fine for me to stop at just a kiss," Jeff shot back with a smirk.

They both burst out laughing. Nick got back to brushing his teeth and Jeff leaned against the wall, watching his friend's reflection in the mirror. "Hey, guess what I just found out. He's gay."

Nick choked on his toothpaste. _"Cameron?_ Eww." He made a face. "I pity the entire gay race."

"No. _Blaine_ , you big dork."

Nick froze, his reflection staring at Jeff from the mirror. "No," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Huh?"

 _"No,"_ Nick repeated. "You can _not_ date him."

 _I_ _know_ _that. Jeez, give me some credit._ "Who says I wanted to?" But he loved yanking Nick's chain, so he continued: "And, if even I _did,_ what's wrong with that?"

"He's your _roommate,_ you jerk. It'd be, like, 'living together' living together," Nick emphasized, miming air quotes.

Looking in the mirror, Jeff casually combed his bangs out of his eyes with his fingertips. "Okay, Dad. No boyfriend. How about 'friend-with-benefits'?" he smirked, suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

Wrinkling his nose, Nick said, "You're gross."

Laughing, Jeff made a kissy face and cooed, "Don't worry, Nicky, I still love you best."

Nick rolled his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The first day of classes, the entire student body and faculty assembled in the chapel for the headmaster's opening convocation. Having enrolled mid-semester last fall, Jeff had missed all this crazy pomp and circumstance. He sat there in the pew with Nick, watching a procession of banner-carrying boys march down the aisle and wondering how and when they'd fallen into the opening scenes of _Dead Poets Society._ Blaine was sitting a few rows up with his orientation "big brother," David Thompson, who Jeff had gotten to know last year in Dalton's Dance Workshop.

G. Gerald Donaldson, the headmaster, took the podium and spoke. For thirty-six mind-numbing minutes. Then, after the thankfully brief closing prayer, the Fall Semester officially commenced.

That first week was a blur. The former middle-schoolers began adjusting to high-school life. The accelerated pace. The more demanding teachers. The even heavier work load.

And during all of the craziness, Jeff kept a close eye on Blaine and watched with relief as he slowly came out of his shell.

The first day, Blaine looked at Dalton like it was Disney World. He was wide-eyed when boys he didn't even know would say hello. Or tried to include him in conversations during meals. Like it was a totally foreign experience for him.

Then he met Crosby.

Crosby Beane was one of the most friendly and outgoing boys at Dalton. ("The single most cheerful life form in this galaxy," Nick always joked.) Whenever he passed a fellow student, he never failed to grin and raise his hand for a friendly high-five. No one was immune. Unfortunately, when Crosby passed Blaine in the halls and raised that hand, Blaine ducked his head and veered away. Just like he flinched whenever he received a friendly back slap or shoulder clap.

In spite of their talk, Jeff was worried seeing that Blaine was _still_ wary, looking like he was waiting for someone to shove him around, trip him up, or hurt him in some way. Jeff didn't press, but he _really_ wanted to know what had happened to have gotten this kid so beat down.

But that thought was pushed into the back of his mind as, little by little, Blaine's walls began to come down. By Thursday, he actually joined in the conversation at breakfast. On the following Monday, Jeff grinned as he saw Blaine high-five Crosby for the first time.

Then came the Warbler auditions. Jeff and Nick had signed up as planned. So had Cam, Andy, and thirty-two other boys.

Including, to everyone's surprise, Blaine.

Jeff couldn't believe it. Yeah, his roommate may have opened up some, but he didn't think Blaine was ready to _really_ put himself out there. Not to the extent it would take to perform in public. Especially as one of Dalton Academy's self-proclaimed "rock stars."

The tryouts were held after school in the main auditorium. Jeff saw a yellow "Dalton Warblers" banner standing on the stage beside three rows of empty chairs. He and the other auditionees were directed to mount the stage and be seated there.

Thirteen upperclassmen sat in the first row of floor seats. One stood and introduced himself as Ken Stevenson. He was a blond-haired, blue-eyed East Coast preppy that Jeff remembered seeing around campus last year. Ken (a.k.a. Kenneth Maitland Stevenson IV) was Dalton's current BMOC. A senior, he was student council president, captain of the rowing and fencing teams _―and,_ he informed them there, the head council member of the Warblers.

 _Head what?_ Then Ken explained how the Warblers had no faculty director; the members instead elected three upperclassmen to serve as a governing council. _Pretty cool._

Ken went on to introduce his fellow council members, "Senior Warblers" Duncan Wood and Wes Montgomery. Catching Wes's eye, Jeff threw a Cub Scout salute to his former orientation "big brother."

Warbler Ken started his spiel. The Warblers were the most prestigious group at Dalton...had been performing for over one hundred years...had won numerous local, regional and national awards...accepted only the very best talent...

 _Get over yourself, Warbler Ken—it's_ glee club. _Just wake me when it's time to sing,_ Jeff silently heckled, slouching in his seat. Nick elbowed him in the arm, and he sat up straight. Well, straighter.

Ken went on, telling the auditionees that this was going to be a rebuilding period. Seven Warblers had graduated last year; four more, including himself and Duncan, would be leaving at the end of _this_ academic year. They were looking for talented freshmen to become core performers over the next four years. Traditionally the group performed _a cappella_ interpretations of easy listening songs, everything from The Mamas  & the Papas to Christopher Cross. This year, the council had decided to update their sound by adding a heavy dose of current Top-40s pop to their repertoire. Also, they planned to introduce more challenging choreography (which meant "any" they'd find out later) to their performances.

Having taken dance classes since he was five, _that_ got Jeff's attention.

Then his smile turned into a smirk. He couldn't help it, thinking about what a choir of uniformed prep-school boys bustin' a move and belting out Beyoncé and Maroon 5 songs would look like.

The auditions started. Organizing the proceedings was a dirty-blond hottie named Shane Hardy who Jeff remembered as a soloist at last year's Spring Concert.

Shane called Nick's name first. Nick had brought his guitar and accompanied himself while he sang "Wanted Dead Or Alive" by Bon Jovi. _Of course._ But, questionable song or not, Jeff always loved listening to his friend sing; Nick had a beautiful voice.

Jeff was next. He managed to get through Aerosmith's "I Don't Want To Miss A Thing" without humiliating himself. (When he'd asked Wes a couple of days ago, the older boy had advised him to audition with a ballad. And _Armageddon_ was one of Jeff's favorite movies.)

Three guys later it was Blaine's turn. He stood facing the rear of the stage, his back to the microphone stand. He muttered to himself, rolling his neck, trying to loosen up.

The music track started: Katy Perry's "Hot 'N Cold". He still faced away from the audience. Jeff wondered if he'd choked—

Blaine spun on his heel and, with a wide show smile on his face, grabbed the mic stand and started to sing:

"You change your mind  
Like a girl changes clothes  
Yeah, you PMS like a bitch  
I would know"

 _Whoa...he's good_. Jeff side-glanced at Nick, who was watching Blaine and looking equally impressed.

"And you over think  
Always speak critically  
I should know  
That you're no good for me-e-e-ee!"

Then Blaine ripped the mic from the stand and exploded into action. Jeff's jaw dropped.

"'Cause you're hot, then you're cold  
You're 'yes', then you're 'no'  
You're in, then you're out  
You're up, then you're down"

 _Good? Holy shit...he's freakin'_ awesome! And those moves didn't look like Dance Dance Revolution, either; Blaine was strutting around the stage like a pro, dynamic and confident. Jeff never would've guessed this person was the skittish kid he'd met three weeks ago.

"You're wrong when it's right  
It's black and it's white  
We fight, we break up  
We kiss, we make up"

 _Go, Blaine Timberlake!_ Jeff silently cheered. Someone was elbowing him in the ribs and he tore himself away from Blaine's performance to meet Nick's glance as he mouthed  _Oh my God._ Jeff could only shrug in response.

"You don't really want to stay, no  
But you really don't want to go-oh..."

He snuck a glance down at the Warblers. They were all totally into the performance. Head Warbler Ken was even bopping his head in time to the music. When the second chorus repeat came around, Jeff found himself singing along:

"'Cause you're hot, then you're cold  
You're 'yes', then you're 'no'"

Nick grinned and joined in, harmonizing:

"You're in, then you're out  
You're up, then you're down"

Then Cam started, with Andy following:

"You're wrong when it's right  
It's black and it's white"

Jeff was surprised; their impromptu four-part harmony wasn't half bad.

"We fight, we break up  
We kiss, we make up"

Not missing a beat, Blaine danced over to them and grinned. Jeff could see the appreciation in his eyes.

They finished the song as a group, with Blaine nailing the vocal runs during the last repeat of the chorus. There was a patter of applause and more than a few pleased smiles from the Warblers. Blaine walked over to thank the guys for the back-up. Jeff was still a little mind-blown by that transformation from mild-mannered schoolboy to teen pop star.

Ken stood and spoke with a constipated formality that reminded Jeff of the politicians on C-SPAN. "Mr. Anderson, that was quite impressive. Fellow Warblers, _this,"_ he said, pointing at Blaine, "is precisely the direction I want our group to move in this year. And as for your back-up singers...well done, gentlemen. You not only improvised that harmony, but supported a brother student. That is the team spirit we, as Dalton men, always encourage and embrace."

"Dude, that was so freakin' _dope!"_ Andy shouted as he clapped Blaine on the shoulder.

And, Jeff noticed, for the first time Blaine didn't flinch.

 

* * *

 

The next day, on his way to soccer practice, Jeff's phone beeped. Digging it out of his pocket, he saw he'd received an e-mail from _thewarblers@daltonacademy.org_ and opened it. It was addressed to Junior Warbler Jeffrey S. Sterling— _YES!—_ and congratulated him for having been selected as a member of the 2009-2010 Dalton Academy Warblers.

The e-mail included a link to an actual Warbler webpage. _These dudes are hard-core,_ Jeff smirked as he checked it out, noting tabs for pictures, performance videos, bios and even FAQs. The complete membership roster was posted and his name was right there. The names Nicholas W. Duval and Blaine D. Anderson were also on the list.

 

* * *

  

One night, rather than read Act Two of _King Lear (that's what SparkNotes is for, right?),_ Jeff took a good, long look at his roommate, who was sitting at his own desk and studying _._ Ever since the Warbler tryouts, Blaine had changed. He had a new sparkle in his eye...a new confidence. Like performing had turned on some hidden switch.

It wasn't like he'd been a bad guy before, either. He was certainly cooler than Jeff's first roommate. Blaine never had a problem with Jeff's smart-ass attitude or the high-spiritedness that some (well...most) people mistook for immature behavior. He was certainly every parent's wet dream: quiet, polite, organized, easy-going.

And he was easy to talk to. Jeff had told Blaine about his parents and sisters. About Nick and how they'd been best friends ever since he'd moved to Fox Chapel. He even hinted at his troubles last year in junior high, vaguely hoping for something in return.

Apart from that one comment he'd uttered the day they'd met, Blaine _never_ talked about his family. Which wasn't entirely out of the ordinary: he knew several boys here that weren't exactly on the best of terms with their folks for one reason or another.

But there were other things that didn't make sense...

There was the age thing; next month was this freshman's _sixteenth_ birthday. Jeff knew there was no way this kid could've been held back—he was a straight-A student _and_ a peer tutor, for God's sake.

Then there were the scars.

Their second night at Dalton, while undressing for bed (and, no, he had absolutely _not_ been checking Blaine out), Jeff noticed a long surgical scar on Blaine's side. While changing for soccer tryouts, he couldn't help but see several, more random scars on his shoulder, chest and back. And, last week when they'd both overslept and were scrambling to get ready in the bathroom, he'd spotted another; it was a particularly nasty-looking one on his scalp, above the hairline. Blaine obviously styled his hair to cover it up.

Also, after writing for any length of time, Blaine always stopped and slowly flexed the fingers of his right hand. And when he did, his breath hitched in pain. Just like Jeff's grandma, when her arthritis "acted up".

When Jeff asked about the scars and stuff, Blaine told him that he'd been in a bad accident last year and he didn't like to talk about it.

It was a totally plausible explanation. But something Jeff saw in Blaine's eyes made him not believe it.

 

* * *

 

The week before Halloween, signs were tacked up on all the notice boards announcing the annual Harvest Ball, a semi-formal dance to be held on November 20th. The event was being thrown in cooperation with Dalton's sister school, Crawford Country Day.

After dinner, Jeff asked Blaine if he were going. Based on what he was seeing at Warbler rehearsals, he reckoned his roommate would be jazzed to go to any kind of dance.

Instead Blaine dropped his eyes and muttered, "Uh...I don't think so." Then pulled out his Western Civilizations textbook and buried his nose in it.

 _Whatever._ Jeff shrugged it off. He had to feed Caruso the canary anyway. (As a new Warbler, he was tasked with caring for the group's temperamental mascot until the end of the month, when he would gladly hand all responsibility for the bird over to Blaine.)

But as he pulled the cover off the birdcage he couldn't help thinking that Blaine had looked a little weirded out over the whole thing.

While lying in bed that night, Jeff starting thinking again. Being gay and all, maybe Blaine thought he wouldn't have a good time with the Crawford girls. So, the next day, Jeff invited Blaine to hang with him and Nick and their other friends who were going stag. Nick assured him if he didn't feel like dancing, that was perfectly okay.

Blaine looked down at his feet, reminding Jeff of the timid Blaine he'd met at the beginning of school. "No, thanks, guys. I'm gonna pass," he said. Then immediately walked away, leaving Nick and Jeff to exchange a puzzled glance. Which they exchanged again that evening when Blaine blew them off at dinner to sit with Wes, David, Duncan, and Shane at a table on the other side of the dining hall.

They didn't see him again until curfew, when he silently went to bed.

Jeff refused to give up. The more Blaine turned him down, the more he was determined to get him to go to that dance. Though Nick said he was getting a bad feeling about this, Jeff was on a mission. There was no stopping him.

The following day after last period, Jeff found Blaine in the otherwise empty Biology room. He was sitting at a lab bench doing his homework—no doubt hiding out there in his continuing attempt to avoid Jeff. "Hey."

Startled, Blaine got to his feet. "Hi, Jeff," he was saying when Jeff suddenly marched over and backed him into a corner.

Placing his hands on the walls either side of Blaine's head, Jeff effectively boxed him in. He leaned in close and with a wicked smile told Blaine, "Listen, dude, you're going to that dance _and_ having good time whether you want to or not. Even if we have to tie you up and carry you there."

Then he realized how Blaine had tensed up. And that all the color had drained out of his face. The shorter boy squeezed his eyes shut and said, in a small voice, "N-no, you won't."

 _What's goin' on? Is he...scared_ _of me?_

Jeff put what he meant to be a reassuring hand on Blaine's trembling shoulder and started to say "Dude, what's wr—" when Blaine suddenly jerked away, screamed, _"LEAVE ME ALONE!"_ and bolted from the room.

_What. The. Fuck._

As Jeff stood there trying to figure out what had just happened he saw a flash of movement outside the window. _No way._ Blaine was sprinting across the lawn and down the hill toward South Pond.

Jeff tore out of the science building and ran after him. Halfway down the hill, he slipped on some fucking wet leaves and almost lost his balance. Worse, during all the stumbling and arm flailing, Blaine had vanished.

He skidded to a halt, just short of taking a header into the pond. He looked up and down the shore, but there was no sign of Blaine. He kicked a tree in frustration. _Shit!_

Jeff became aware of the cadence of pounding feet approaching and looked up. The cross-country team was jogging toward him down the walking path that followed the water's edge. He saw Warbler Duncan in the lead, the black-haired senior giving him a curious stare as he passed without breaking stride.

 _"Hey!"_ shouted a familiar voice. Jeff turned to see Nick separating himself from the pack of running boys.

"What's goin' on?" Nick asked, looking at him funny.  

Jeff reckoned he was quite a sight, out of breath, shirttail untucked, hair hanging in his face.  He swiped his bangs out of his eyes and snapped, "Help me find Blaine. He was headed this way when I lost him."

"Wha—?"

"Don't ask," he grimaced. "I kinda...did somethin' stupid."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "What else is new?"

"Ha ha," Jeff deadpanned, then admitted, "That friggin' dance. Told him he was going. That he had no choice. I don't know why, but he freaked out and ran off. We gotta find him."

"Oh, _crap."_

They split up. Nick hurried back up the path to search around the gym and athletic fields. Jeff set off in the opposite direction, scanning the woods for any sign of Blaine. Thank God the groundskeepers regularly cleared out the small brush or he'd have no chance of spotting him at all.

It suddenly hit him that Blaine could have doubled back. He texted all their friends, keeping it casual by just asking _Hey - anybdy seen blaine?_

Replies began coming in. Dylan Lantree and Andy Stewart both had Honors Bio with Blaine eighth period and said that was the last time they'd seen him. Everyone else sent back some version of _"no."_

The sun was going down and Jeff walked faster, then started running, shoes clacking on the slate pavers. Still no Blaine. Through the trees he caught a glimpse of the high brick wall that enclosed the school's grounds _. No way Blaine could've climbed that_ _._

He stopped for a breather, sitting on one of those crazy marble benches. Carved into the seat was _"Prudentiam":_ insight. He smiled humorlessly. _I definitely could use some of_ that _right now._

He looked out across the pond, squinting in the sunlight reflecting off the water's surface. He was surprised to see the Dalton campus on the opposite shore. Wow. He must have been running faster than he thought to have gotten that far around already.

As the pounding in his ears subsided and his breathing slowed, he heard _someone else's_ breath sounds.

Behind him.

Slowly turning, he caught a glimpse of red. The same red as the Dalton sweater vest Blaine was wearing.

There he was, sitting between the roots of a huge tree, knees hugged to his chest. He glared at Jeff, his eyes a mixture of fear and anger. The kid was totally freaked out. But _why?_ Jeff knew Blaine had been bullied, but—

Something clicked in Jeff's head. Junior high. The attack in the boys' locker room.

He thought back to the first time he'd entered the locker room here at Dalton... _how he'd gotten queasy just over the sour sweat smell...felt trapped when he'd heard the door close...the flare of panic when a random football player had come around a corner—just like Stu Slater and the others had that day._ To this day, he still felt an occasional twinge of angst when in there alone.

Remembering the timid boy he'd met back in August who'd flinched when someone even got close to him, Jeff guessed something even _worse_ than that locker-room beating must have happened to Blaine...something that would've given him all those scars...

 _Something that might've happened at a school dance,_ he suddenly realized. _Oh, fuck..._

He heard someone running towards them. It was Nick. He'd followed the path around the pond from the opposite direction. Breathless, he called out, "No sign of—" Jeff cut him off with a raised hand.

Nick was about to protest, then saw Blaine sitting all hunched up. Looking worried, he kept quiet and knelt on the ground.

Jeff crouched down a few feet away from Blaine, trying not to spook him. "Hey, buddy..."

"I-I'm not goin'...you can't make me," he muttered, never taking his eyes off Jeff.

"Okay. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Honest." He tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm sorry. Really. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm sort of a jerk." He chose to ignore Nick's snort of agreement.

Blaine didn't say anything; his gaze never wavered as Jeff crept closer.

"It's okay. I get it. I got the shit beat out of me at school every day. The last time, they put me in the hospital."

"Oh, yeah? Were _you_ in a coma, too? And did they fuck _you_ up so bad that you had to stay in that hospital for _four months?_ Did you miss so much school you were held back and had to re-start your freshman year all over again?" Blaine shouted, voice both sad and angry.

Jeff's stomach knotted. _No way._ "Wha...?"

"That's right. Last year, I went to a dance. With my friend Jack. We were...we were the only two out kids at school." Those amber eyes darkened. "It was a Sadie Hawkins Dance. And I asked him. We spent most of the night standing in the corner. But we danced one dance." His voice broke. _"One lousy dance..."_

Jeff's insides turned cold as Blaine started telling them how, after the dance, he and his friend had been stupidly waiting for their ride alone outside the gym...

_...when he'd heard the pounding of running feet. Before he could even turn around, someone had him by the hair and slammed him face-first into the side of the building. Blinding pain exploded through his skull. He was still trying to process what was happening when he was yanked around and shoved backwards into a corner, head bouncing off the bricks..._

(Jeff winced, thinking how he'd forced Blaine into the corner in the Bio lab.)

_He couldn't see. Blood was streaming down his forehead into his eyes. Someone grabbed him and twisted his arms up his back, calling him "fag" and "homo." The voice was close to his ear. He felt spittle hitting his cheek. Smelled the sour reek of beer.  
_

_From the voices, he could tell there were three of them. And it sounded like two were whaling on Jack. Until Jack's shouts abruptly stopped._

_A fist smashed into his face. Then another. He felt the sickening crunch of his nose breaking. Blood poured down his throat, gagging him, cutting off his shouts for help. Someone hissed for him to shut the fuck up, punctuating each word with rapid, vicious blows to the gut that left him curled up on the ground retching._

_He was kicked in the ribs. There was a snapping sound and pain ripped through him like fire, overwhelming all his senses. It was the same when they stomped on his hand._

_Slipping into shock, he barely felt it when they started kicking him all over. Finally, something smashed into his skull and everything went black..._

_...and he woke up in a hospital all woozy and stiff with his brother at his bedside. Cooper was crying, looking both relieved and pissed as hell at the same time. Their parents were no where to be seen. (They'd gone to Manhattan, he found out later. For some corporate holiday bash.)_

_His right hand and leg were both in casts. When he tried to move, there was a pain in his side. He'd been attacked at the dance, Coop gently told him. And been in a coma for thirty-six days. Today was December 21st. He didn't believe him until a nurse came in wearing a Santa hat and a Christmas pin on her scrubs._

_Then he remembered and had to be sedated._

_When he woke up, he was numb. He tried to understand as the doctor spoke with him: head trauma...fractured ribs...lacerated kidney...ruptured spleen...compound fracture of the hand...broken leg...a lucky young man..._

_Yeah. Real lucky._

_He spent the next four months in a rehabilitation center. Life became a confusing blur of follow-up surgeries and physical therapy and nightmares and counseling punctuated by up to sometimes three panic attacks a day in the beginning..._

Jeff sat there sick to his stomach. He didn't want to believe what he'd just heard. The world around him suddenly felt very far away and he wrapped his arms around himself. Bad memories were creeping in from the edge of his mind when he heard a voice say, "Hey." At the same time, someone gripped his hand. "It's all right. Everything's okay."

Nick's face was right in front of his own. His dark eyes were wide and full of concern, worrying about him even though it looked like all _he_ wanted to do right now was go and throw up.

Jeff squeezed back hard, focusing. With some effort, he broke the spell and pulled himself together; he even managed a weak smile to assure Nick he wasn't gonna fall apart.

They both shifted their attention back to Blaine. He was pale and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. Jeff carefully reached out to him. When he didn't jerk away, Jeff put his arm around his shoulders. He was surprised when Blaine leaned into him, still talking.

"The worst thing was they never found out who did it. With all the blood in my eyes and everything, I never saw who they were. And Jack? He didn't remember anything. Not even the dance. He woke up in the ER and thought it was the morning before." Blaine's voice started to crack. "Not like it mattered...those cops couldn't've cared less about two 'fag kids' getting beat up."

"Oh, man..." Jeff whispered. "I'm sorry." He felt stupid; there was nothing he could say that would make it better. "I'm so sorry..."

The three boys just sat there on the cold ground. They were still sitting there when the lamp posts along the path automatically turned on at dusk.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Sterling! You're missing a great time! You'll be sor- _ree!"_

Jeff leaned in his doorway, arms folded across his chest. It was the night of the Harvest Ball. He watched as the guys, dressed in regular blazers and ties, streamed down the hall on their way to the busses waiting to take them to the dance.

As they passed, they bantered with Jeff _._ And Nick and Blaine, who were lounging inside the room. The three boys were comfortable in sweats and tee-shirts as they prepared for their all-night movie marathon.

At Jeff's insistence, they did a three-way "Rock, Paper, Scissors" for first movie pick. Blaine won. _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._ Not exactly a big surprise since he was wearing a tee with _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ printed on it.

Jeff groaned; his baby sister watched that movie (and all the others) constantly. But at least it was better than one of Nick's old _Star Trek_ movies. _I don't know what's worse:_ Star Trek—The "Motionless" Picture _or Bon Jovi...wait, why am I friends with him again...?_

Nick volunteered to go down the hall to the kitchenette and nuke the popcorn. After he left, Jeff shocked Blaine by informing him their friend was a Potter virgin. Nick had never been interested the Harry Potter films. Or even the books. For years, Jeff had kidded him for being the only kid in America who was immune to Pottermania. To which Nick replied that he liked his fiction to be more science, less fantasy.

After setting up the Potter DVD, Blaine turned to Jeff and said, "I...just wanted to say thanks. I mean, you didn't have to stay. I know you guys wanted to go."

Three weeks had passed since Blaine's meltdown. That night, the two of them had talked until dawn. Blaine told him about his family (especially how much it hurt knowing he barely existed in his parents' eyes since coming out to them), his friend Jack, and the bullying at his old school leading up to the assault. Jeff had shared his own experiences in junior high and how they'd brought him to Dalton. It was funny; that was only three weeks ago—now he thought of Blaine as one of his best friends.

Jeff shrugged. "Nah, not really. Just an excuse to get off campus. I mean, it's not like I was gonna dance with anyone anyway. Woulda just ended up ragging on Cam. You've seen him in practice; dude can't dance to save his life. _And,"_ he smirked, raising his voice as Nick came back with the popcorn, "you spared Nicky the humiliation of getting shot down by a couple dozen girls with good taste _—_ "

He ducked as two puffed-up popcorn bags came flying at his head. When he looked up, Nick was flipping him off. "Bite me!"

"You wish," Jeff taunted, blowing Nick a kiss off his own raised middle finger. "Bring it, you big dork! _"_

 _"Brung!"_  Grinning fiendishly, Nick suddenly lunged at him and pushed him down on his back. Jeff's head landed on one of the popcorn bags, bursting it open.

As they started wrestling on the floor, he could see Blaine laughing at them as he got out the way...

 

* * *

 

Blaine Anderson laughed as Nick hurled himself on top of Jeff and pinned him to the floor. Their antics had upset Caruso and the canary was chirping and fluttering around his cage.

He scrambled up onto his bed as Jeff broke the hold and they started rolling around, shouting and laughing and flinging popcorn at each other.

They were adorable. He'd been at Dalton for three months and it was _so_ obvious his two friends were oblivious.

Jeff finally got the upper hand. Straddling Nick's chest (his crotch inches from Nick's face) he had his friend's arms pinned down with his knees. He threw a fist in the air and shouted that he was the "ultimate fighting champion"—right before Nick bucked wildly and toppled him off.

Blaine just shook his head. He wondered how long it would take for them to get a clue....

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Thoughts and feelings? Please review.


	3. Wild In The Streets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the newest OC's, I see Luke Edgemon as Flint, Nick Robinson as Evan and Max and Charlie Carver as John and Scott Crater.

Jeff Sterling was having a pretty awesome night.

First, he'd been anxious, his stomach tightening when the announcer's voice reverberated through the Proctor & Gamble Hall of Cincinnati's Aranoff Center for the Arts. _"Ladies and gentlemen, for the final performance of the evening, please welcome from Westerville, Ohio...the Dalton Academy Warblers!"_

Ten seconds into their opening number _―_ the Jonas Brothers' "Burnin' Up" _―_ Jeff relaxed. Because he _knew_ the Warblers were going to win Regionals.

"I'm hot, you're cold  
You go around like you know  
Who I am, but you don't  
You've got me on my toes"

They'd smoked the competition at Sectionals with a medley of the top pop songs of 2009 and some seriously slick dance moves. Everyone had been shocked; the usually-stodgy Warblers would have normally trotted out a salute to Simon and Garfunkel or something equally lame.

With that win under their belts, the group was determined to prove that the "new-and-improved" Warblers weren't just a one-hit wonder.

"I'm slippin' into the lava  
And I'm tryna keep from goin' under  
Baby, who turned the temperature hotter  
'Cause I'm burnin' up  
Burnin' up for you, baby"

No worries. They were in the _zone_ tonight. Shane Hardy was center stage as lead vocalist. Jeff, Blaine, David, and Jamie Kirk were dancing behind him and singing back-up.

They were a hit; the audience was already cheering and clapping. Jeff smirked when he saw that most of the female _―_ and a few male _―_ eyes were riveted on the soloist. With his blue eyes and dirty blond surfer-boy hair, Shane looked every inch the nickname pinned on him by Senior Warbler Duncan Wood: "Heartthrob".

"C'mon, girl!"

Shane strutted downstage and started eye-flirting with random teens in the first few rows; the girls squealed in response.

"I fell so fast  
Can't hold myself back  
High heels _,_ red dress  
All by yourself, gotta catch my breath"

Duncan had wanted the number to have a boy-band feel. At the last minute, he'd gone around to the five featured boys loosening ties and mussing their hair. He'd had a hell of a time with Blaine's gel helmet; Jeff had cracked up watching Duncan's struggle to loosen up those shellacked curls without benefit of a blowtorch. _I think it's time for Nicky and me to stage that "gel-vention" we've been talkin' about._

Then, as Jeff and the others had taken their positions, he saw Ken Stevenson suddenly pull Duncan aside. Jeff had sniggered as their uptight head council member threw a whispered shit-fit over Duncan sending "disheveled Warblers" onstage. Duncan had just shrugged it off, giving his friend a sly smile that said _Just trust me..._

"I'm slippin' into the lava  
And I'm tryna keep from goin' under  
Baby, who turned the temperature hotter..." 

Jeff could just imagine the smirk on Duncan's face as more and more people stood up and cheered...

 

* * *

 

From the top riser, Nick Duval watched the audience getting to its collective feet, cheering and clapping in time with the beat. He had to give Duncan props; everyone was loving the whole boy-band thing. And why not? Jeff and the others were sexy as hell out there.

  
"...'Cause I'm burnin' up  
Burnin' up for you, baby

"Walk in the room  
All I can see is you  
Staring me down  
I know you feel it, too..."

When they reached the song's rap lyrics, Nick and the other Warblers stopped background vocalizing and took over the singing. As they did, Shane faded back and joined the other four boys for a synchronized dance break.

With his years of dance training Jeff had helped choreograph the hip-hop-based routine. Nick watched, amazed as always at how Jeff could put so much attitude into his moves and yet still seem so...graceful and fluid. Like right now, the way Jeff was swiveling his hips and shaking that perfect ass _ _―__

_What?_

Nick snapped back to reality. Blushing, he hastily looked away and through the stage-light glare into the audience instead.

"I'm slippin' into the lava  
_Burnin' up, burnin' up!_  
And I'm tryna keep from goin' under  
_Yeah!"_

Crap. He was lost and performing on auto-pilot. Thank God they'd practiced the routine so many times he could dance it in his sleep. Listening to the lyrics, he tried to work out where the hell they were; the last he remembered, they'd been rapping.

"Baby, who turned the temperature hotter  
I'm burnin' up  
Burnin' up for you, baby"

 _Crap!_ The song was almost over. His ears felt hot as he blushed even harder. How _long_ had he been zoning? They were at the point the group fell silent, leaving Shane to sing the ending alone:

"Burnin' up, burnin' up  
For _you,_ ba-a-by"

The stage lights went down as the audience erupted with enthusiastic applause.

Nick had no time to dwell on what had happened back there as the Warblers quickly regrouped in the darkness. Then Ken entered from the right wing, lit by a traveling spotlight as he moved downstage singing the Leona Lewis ballad "Bleeding Love".

"Closed off from love  
I didn't need the pain  
Once or twice was enough  
And it was all in vain  
Time starts to pass  
Before you know it, you're frozen"

The background vocals started. At the same time, the stage backdrop was illuminated, revealing the rest of the Warblers in silhouette. Then three more spots fell on Nick, Thad Harwood, and Luke Wright stepping down from the risers to harmonize behind Ken.

"Oh, but somethin' happened  
For the very first time with you  
My heart melts into the ground  
Found somethin' true  
And everyone's looking 'round  
Thinkin' I'm goin' crazy, baby"

As he danced, Nick turned and caught a glimpse of Jeff standing up on the top riser, side-stepping with the rest of the boys... 

 

* * *

 

Standing next to John and Flint as they beat boxed, Jeff had to fight from rolling his eyes; he was basically just swaying in unison with the other Warblers while mindlessly "ooohing" the vocal accompaniment. _Real challenging stuff. I know it's a slow song, but we could've come up with some better choreo than this. Whatever. Can't risk upstaging the man in charge..._

"But I don't care what they say  
I'm in love with you  
They try to pull me away  
But they don't know the truth  
My heart's crippled by the vein  
That I keep on closin'

"You cut me open and I keep bleeding  
Keep, keep bleeding love"

He looked downstage at the featured singers. Ken was center stage in full dreamboat mode and the audience was eating up his velvet-smooth voice.

"I keep bleeding  
I keep, keep bleeding love  
I keep bleeding  
Keep, keep bleeding love  
You cut me open"

Jeff's gaze traveled from Ken to the three boys dancing behind him in circles of light cast by overhead pinspots before focusing on Nick.  _BTW, meaning no disrespect to our fearless leader, but Nicky would_ kill _singing lead on this piece._

"But nothing's greater than the rush  
That comes with your embrace"

He'd always thought Nick's voice was beautiful; it had depth and soul and would've perfectly suited the Jesse McCartney cover the performance was based on.

"And in this world of loneliness  
I see your face"

The color of the pinspots began shifting from soft white to pale blue. Jeff was watching Nick's face in profile. He couldn't help smiling. _Nice effect. Damn, in that light Nicky looks almost...angelic._

"Yet everyone around me  
Thinks that I'm goin' crazy, maybe"

Which had him asking himself a question that seemed to be on his mind a lot recently _._

"But I don't care what they say  
I'm in love with you..."

_When did the big dork get so good looking...?_

 

* * *

 

After the competition, Nick hung out in Duncan and Ken's hotel room along with Jeff and the rest of the younger Warblers. The dapper schoolboys had shucked their uniform blazers and ties, pulled on sweats and athletic shorts, ordered room service, and were currently stuffing their faces while watching TV. When they'd arrived back at the hotel, Mr. Donaldson had congratulated them on the performance _. Then_ segued into a lecture on how Dalton men were expected to carry themselves with pride and dignity _,_ the finale being a reminder (or warning) that their behavior directly reflected on the reputation of the school.

That said, the elderly headmaster retired for the evening with his wife _._

And as soon as the coast was clear, most of the juniors and seniors hightailed it down to the hotel lounge. Most with fake IDs in their pockets.

Bored with the bad action flick the guys were watching, Nick was texting his friend Seth. But his mind kept wandering...

_...after the applause for "Bleeding Love" faded, the Warblers jumped right into their final number _―_ Linkin Park's "New Divide". Duncan and Wes shared lead vocals, the group choreography was crazy ambitious and the piece had been arranged to finish with a show-stopping vocal "wall of sound"._

_The standing ovation was thunderous._

_Then came the awards presentation. The Warblers were crowded together with Nick squashed in between Blaine and Jeff._ _The emcee, milking the tension, slowly tore open the envelope and read, "And in third place. From Newport, Kentucky, the Villa Victoria Decibelles..."_

 _After the Villa girls had taken their trophy and left the stage, Nick felt his stomach knotting; it was down to the Warblers and the Camelots from John F. Kennedy Jr. High in Warren, Ohio. He_ _blew out a huge tension-cleansing breath. It didn't help._

 _Then someone gripped his hand_ _and gave it a squeeze._ _Jeff._

 _His friend flashed him his cockiest grin and muttered,_ _"We've so got this." Looking at Jeff, Nick's tension instantly evaporated _―_ barring a little flutter of excitement. He felt himself smiling in return._

_Then he heard the emcee call out: "And congratulations to the 2010 Central Midwest Regional Show Choir Champions. From Westerville, Ohio, the Dalton Academy Warblers!"_

Holy freakin' hell, yes! _Nick jumped up and punched the air._ _Jeff let out a Rebel yell _then_ turned and crushed him in a bear hug. Their gazes locked and Nick found himself looking deep into Jeff's hazel eyes...before __Blaine jumped on them and wrapped his arms around them both. As soon as he did, Jeff looked away _ _ _―____ and _cracked up when he saw how Blaine's gel-free curls were bouncing with excitement―_

His phone chimed.

Nick started. Crap. He was zoning again (he'd been doing that a lot recently) and missed Seth's last two texts. He thumbed a hasty reply, then a goodbye.

As Nick put his phone away, Flint came in from the adjoining room he shared with Shane. He was carrying a gym bag which clinked when it was set down. He wasn't exactly surprised when Flint started pulling out liquor bottles. "Time to get this party started!" the beat boxer crowed.

Having drawn the short straws, Flint and Shane had stayed behind to look after the younger boys. Shane eyed the eight blue bottles of Skyy vodka now standing on the desk. "Where'd you get all _that?"_ he asked with an inquisitive smile.

"Not from Room Service, if that's what you're worried about," Flint smirked, cracking open the first bottle. "Beyond that, I plead the fifth."

Nick accepted the glass when it was shoved in his hand, looking down at the clear liquid inside. He'd never drank before, not even beer.

Flint hoisted his cup. "Warblers rule, dudes! Nationals, here we come!" he toasted, tossing the drink back. The others followed suit.

There were a few coughs. Blaine choked and Thad pounded him on the back. Jeff scrunched up his face, swallowed and slammed his empty cup down on the table. Through watery eyes, he looked expectantly at Nick. _"C'mon,_ you big dork."

He threw Jeff a dirty look. Now everyone was staring at him. And chanting, "Nick...Nick...Nick..."

 _Oh, well...as the new Doctor would say: Geronimo_ _!_ Nick bolted the drink.

Big mistake.

 _Auughh!_ It tasted like rubbing alcohol smelled! And it _burned_ all the way down. Throat raw and eyes stinging, he took a deep breath, praying he wouldn't embarrass himself by throwing up.

As the Warblers cheered, Jeff started rubbing his back. "You okay there?"

 _Not really, but that feels nice._ "Think so."

"Round two!" Flint called out as he circled the room and splashed more vodka into their cups. Nick rolled his eyes ceilingward.

Jeff smirked, opened the mini-fridge, selected a bottle of cranberry juice and topped off Nick's drink. "This'll help." After adding some to his own, he clicked his cup against Nick's.

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, Nick deadpanned, "Really?" He took a sip and grimaced. _Liar._

The third drink wasn't as bad, though. A nice warm feeling was spreading through his body. He felt himself smiling widely as the party started to get...interesting. Everybody was louder. And acting kinda goofy (well...goofier). Like Ethan and Jamie, the way they were hanging on each other and giggling _ _.__

After what Nick fuzzily realized was his fifth drink, something kicked Blaine into performance mode. He jumped up on one of the beds and rocked out while singing:

"Dark in the city, night is a wire  
Steam in the subway, earth is afire  
Doo-doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo-doo

"Woman, you want me, gimme a sign  
And catch my breathin' even closer behind  
Doo-doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo-doo"

 _Da fuck?_ Blaine suddenly spun around and jumped over to the other bed. Jeff tossed him a pair of pink sunglasses and he slipped them on.

"Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand  
_Smell like I sound!_  
Just like that river twistin' through a dusty land  
_Straddle the line!"_

Nick took a drink, trying to figure out if this was still the same song _―_ but was distracted when he noticed Ethan and Jamie grinding on each other. _Like...damn._

"And when she shines, she really shows you all she can  
_Mouth is alive!_  
Oh, Rio, Rio, dance across the Rio Grande"

As Blaine jumped back to the first bed _―_ and not quite sticking the landing this time _―_ the other guys started to join in.  Jeff enthusiastically bopped his head to the beat, his hair flapping like a blond flag, making Nick crack up.

"Stalked in the forest, too close to hide  
I'll be upon you by the moonlight side  
Doo-doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo-doo

"High blood drummin' on your skin, it's so tight  
You feel my heat, I'm just a moment behind  
Doo-doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo doo doo, doo-doo..."

By the time Nick managed to work it out _(Hey, Brainiac...it's_ two _songs! All mixed up together! Duh!),_ Blaine had finished getting his Duran Duran on and was taking his bows.

After a couple group songs Andy started shouting, "Never Have I Ever! Les' play Never...Have...I...Ever!"

The game started out with things like "Never have I ever cheated on a test" and "Never have I ever broke curfew". Routine stuff. But then guys started going after each other. When it was Jeff's turn, he gave Nick a wicked smile and said, "Never haff I ever...worn _Star Wars_ underwear to Regionals."

Nick looked at him in shock. _Hey! No fair! Thass_ s'posed _to be a_ secret. _BTW, ya jerk, y' know they're lucky!_ he pouted as he took his drink amid all the razzing...

 

* * *

 

...while Jeff tried to keep from laughing. _Tha' was a crappy thing fer me t' do. But Nicky is sooo cute when he's angry!_ he observed, quite pleased with himself. Meanwhile, if they could, Nick's eyes would be drilling holes in his head _._

When it was Nick's turn, Jeff found himself on the receiving end of a very evil grin. "Never haff I ever...worn guyliner," Nick cackled, referring to the time he'd walked in on Jeff standing at his mirror, studying a picture of Adam Lambert and practicing with an eyeliner pencil. And then caught him trying to wear it at Sectionals.

 _Awright...now we're even._ Jeff smirked back at Nick and he threw back his drink like a shot. The guys ribbed him _._ And David and Cam when they drank, too.

It was Flint's turn. "Never have I ever kissed a dude."

Shane shrugged and drained his cup. As did Ethan and Jamie. Then a sheepishly grinning David. "Eyes back in your heads, guys. It was dare!" he explained; everyone was always kidding him about the depth of his "epic bromance" with Wes.

All eyes were on the two gay freshmen. Jeff shook his head, admitted, "Nope, sorry," and looked over at Blaine, who he knew, like him, had never kissed a boy.

Poor Blaine was obviously upset with that fact and was changing from "happy drunk" to "weepy drunk" right before his eyes. His lower lip stuck out as he moped, "Uh-uh."

After watching Blaine's mood nose-dive, Shane said softly, "Hey, Blaine." As Blaine looked up with his sad-puppy eyes, the older boy leaned forward, cupped Blaine's face and gently caught the younger boy's lips with his own.

"Get some, Anderson!" Flint called out. The others whistled and catcalled.

 _Ho. Ly. Shit._ Jeff stared bug-eyed _._ He couldn't believe it; Blaine was being kissed by one of the most beautiful boys at Dalton.

Shane pulled back, his kiss leaving Blaine with a comically dazed expression on his face. "There you go, Blaine Anderson; you've kissed a boy." While Blaine beamed, Shane reminded him, "And now you hafta drink."

 _Hey! No fair!_ "Iss my turn. Y'did _him,_ y'gotta do _me!"_ Jeff insisted. He heard guys snickering, but he was too wasted to realize how really _wrong_ that sentence sounded.

He felt someone turning his head and found himself nose to nose with Nick. Nick smiled sloppily at him and slurred, "Hey, yer my bes' friend...an' if someone's gonna kiss ya, iss gonna be _me."_

Before Jeff knew what was happening, Nick was bending in and kissing the corner of his mouth _―w_ _hoa,_ _Nicky's really kissin'_ _me? _―__ and _then_ tilting his head and capturing his lips in a proper kiss. As Jeff sat there dumbfounded, Nick's hand moved up the back of his head, fingers twining into his hair. His eyes closed when Nick gently started sucking his lower lip.

 _Holy shit..._ _Nicky is_ really _kissin' me..._

The kiss went on, hot and wet and slow. After however many minutes, Nick slowly released Jeff's head. When he reluctantly pulled back, Jeff looked over at Nick. Rather than look freaked out after realizing what he'd done like Jeff expected him to, Nick, though breathless and flushed, was calm. And with his bashful smile and rumpled hair, Jeff thought he looked so freaking _hot._

He didn't know what he was doing. He just knew he wanted to kiss Nick again.

He leaned in and found Nick's mouth with his own...

 

* * *

 

...as Nick sat there in a blissful daze watching as Jeff leaned in. And for the second time, Jeff's mouth was pressed on his, all hot and hungry and determined and he hadn't been expecting Jeff to kiss him back at all, let alone one-up him with a kiss like _this._ Nick didn't know what to think...but he _didn't_ think about backing off. The feeling was just too, _too_ intense.

The kiss deepened and, before Nick realized it, his lips parted and Jeff slowly ran his tongue across Nick's lower lip, then his teeth. Jeff's hands slid into his hair, pulling him even closer as their tongues started flirting _―o_ _hhh, man! Jeff is an awesome kisser _―__ and it was like their lips fit perfectly together. Every nerve in Nick's body tingled.

From somewhere far away Nick heard the guys' voices hooting and hollering but he didn't care. As he pushed his tongue deep into Jeff's mouth, a line from that song Blaine had been singing popped into his head.

_Ohh, yeah...mouth is alive..._

 

* * *

  

Things had been quiet for a while when Shane Hardy heard the click of the lock. The Dalton Academy junior looked up from the TV to see the door open and Duncan step into the room, back from the hotel lounge and sporting his signature sly smile.

The dark-haired boy looked around at the scatter of sleeping underclassmen, most of whom had just crashed where it was convenient. "Hey, Heartthrob," he stage-whispered, winking at Shane.

"Hey yourself. What's doin'?"

"A best friend's work is never done. I made sure that Kenny hooked up. Some girl from UC," Duncan said, smirking at the memory of a drunk Ken being mauled by the very eager college girl as they waited for the elevator. Ken Stevenson might look like a blond preppy god, but he was a _total_ stiff when it came to girls. "He'll be warbling tomorrow for sure."

He stepped into the room _―_ by stepping over Thad, who was spooning with a sofa cushion _―_ and quirked an eyebrow. "Everything okay here in the Babysitter's Club?"

"Well, y'know...somehow they went and got themselves drunk," Shane joked, the alcohol thickening his normally faint Southern drawl. He knew Duncan knew about the libations Flint had packed in his bag. "But better in here than runnin' loose through the hotel. Unless y'all raised hell down in the bar, Dalton's reputation is intact."

"The Head'll be thrilled..." Duncan stopped when he noticed Nick and Jeff cuddling. They were leaning up against the foot of the bed, Nick's head resting on Jeff's shoulder, Jeff's head resting on top of Nick's. They were holding hands, fingers laced, and their legs were intertwined.

"Well, this is a surprise," he commented, shooting Shane an arch look.

"Nah, it's been a long time coming."

"The Brothers Niff? Get out." His smile widened as he remembered something. "Wait a minute. I thought Duval was straight."

Shane shrugged. "He says he is, who knows? Didn't stop him from plantin' the first one on Sterling," he recounted. "Who gladly returned the favor."

"First kiss, huh?" Duncan looked down at the sleeping pair. "Go for it, guys."

Shane chuckled, "Shame they were so shit-faced they probably won't even remember it."

"Yeah. Just blame it on the alcohol."

Still feeling his buzz, Shane stood and walked over to Duncan. "Well, Mr. Wood, you took such good care of your best friend. Now how 'bout your _boy_ friend?"

Smiling, Duncan threaded his fingers through Shane's hair and pulled him in for a kiss. "Don't worry," Duncan whispered huskily, taking him by hand and guiding him toward the door to the adjoining room. "I always tip the babysitter..."

 

* * *

 

Jeff woke wondering why someone was beating what felt like a heavy-metal drum solo on his head.

He tried cracking his eyes open a tiny bit, but the light stabbing in from the windows started a whole new and more painful throbbing so he squeezed them shut. He swallowed, his mouth tasting like he'd used it to clean toilets.

Speaking of toilets, he had to pee like crazy. Eyes still closed, he struggled to his feet (he was all _tangled up_ with something warm and heavy) and staggered to the bathroom, praying he didn't have an "accident" before he could get there. The feeling that the floor was swaying under his feet wasn't helping.

All the while, fragments of a song played through his mind:

 _Her name is Rio, she don't need to understand_  
_Smell like I sound!_  
_And I might find her if I'm lookin' like I can_  
_Straddle the line!_

While relieving himself, the impossibly _loud_ sound of his stream made the pounding in his head even worse.

 _Oh, Rio, Rio, hear them shout across the land_  
_Mouth is alive!  
_ _From mountains in the nor―_

_Mouth is alive?  
_

He remembered.

 _Oh,_ _shit._ _Nicky. I kissed Nicky..._

His eyes shot wide open as the rest fell into place _._

 _...after_ he _kissed_ me.

As the shock of that memory rebooted his brain, Nick came stumbling in, palming the wall to steady himself, his eyes squinty red slits. Jeff watched as his silent―and normally _very_ modest―friend walked up and joined him at the toilet. Nick just pulled down his sweatpants _(and those "lucky"_ Star Wars _boxers_ ) and took a very long―and _very LOUD―_ leak.

_Not too awkward._

Jeff tried to play it cool. And tried really hard to not look at Nick's dick.

The rest of Saturday morning was just as painful. His head felt ready to split in two. And the ribbing the guys were giving Nick and him about the kiss _really_ wasn't helping. He tried to be a good sport, but he thought he was going to have to seriously kill Cameron when the spazz wouldn't stop singing 30H!3's "My First Kiss". Lucky for him, an exhausted-looking Shane and Duncan roared in unison for him to shut up.

When it came time to leave the hotel, Jeff still felt like shit. In the elevator, Cam couldn't help himself and smirked that he was "really rockin' the whole 'blond-zombie-having-a-bad-hair-day' look". Jeff responded with a simple-but-effective whack to the back of Cam's head. _Zombie maybe, but don't diss the hair, dickwad!_

On the ride back to Westerville, he and Nick sat alone in the back of the charter bus. Jeff hoped they would talk about the kiss. He could only shake his head at the hazy memory. According to Ethan, they'd gone at it for what had to be twenty minutes. Way longer than any kiss between two drunk friends should have lasted. It didn't make any sense.

Jeff stole a glance at Nick, hoping that he would be the one to bring up the subject first. But Nick didn't look up to talking. At all. He'd changed out of his blazer and was curled up in his seat, the hood of his hoodie pulled down over his face. The poor guy looked like he was doing his best not to hurl. Jeff promised himself they'd talk tonight for sure.

But after the three-hour ride from Cincinnati, Jeff's stomach wasn't exactly in the best shape either.  All he could think about was getting the hell off that bus and crawling into bed.

The afternoon light was fading when they arrived back at Dalton.  The junior Warblers were stealthily hustled into the dorms while Ken did some inspired smooth talking to distract the group that had gathered to greet the victors.  Duncan got Jeff and Blaine upstairs to their room and unlocked their door for them. Right before an epic face-plant onto his bed, Jeff's last thoughts were: _Geddup inna li'l bit an' talk t' Nicky..._

Blinding sunlight filled the room when he woke to the sound of Blaine snoring. And the tolling of the chapel chimes. How long had they been asleep? He fumbled for his cell and swiped the screen: _9:03am - Sunday - February 21_ _._

It was tomorrow. And they were missing Chapel. Which meant ten demerits. Shit.

He pulled his pillow over his head.

An hour later, the guys were back from Sunday Service and Jeff tried to ignore the rising noise out in the hall. But when someone―probably Adam Silverman, the fourth floor's closet emo―started blasting MCR's "Desolation Row", he finally gave up.  He hauled his ass out of bed and look a long shower. After dressing, he went looking for Nick.

He started across the hall, poking his head in the open door of Nick's room. Ward Brandt was there alone and playing Call of Duty. His eyes never leaving the screen, the lanky red-haired boy told him that, after Chapel, Nick had said he was heading down to the track.

 _Aw, fuck_. _He only runs laps when he really wants to think._

Nick wasn't back by lunchtime. Seth and Cam stopped by Jeff's room and, despite his claims of not being hungry, pulled him off his bed to go to the dining hall with them. He tried hard not to think about the kiss _(Nick's lips sliding against his, hand fisting in his hair and―SHUT UP!)_ as he pushed his food around his plate with his fork.

Back at the dorm, Jeff saw the door to 404 was ajar. He'd just left Ward back in the caf, so he knew it was Nick―and that he was alone. It was time they talked about that kiss. God knew he'd been thinking about it all morning. Nick must have been, too.

He hesitated, took a deep breath, then pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Hey."

Nick was sitting on his bed with his back to the door, rummaging in his footlocker. "What's up?"

Jeff's heart was pounding. "Um, can we talk?"

"Sure." Nick paused his movements but didn't turn to face him.

 _Is he pissed?_ To keep from fidgeting, Jeff sat down on the edge of Ward's desk. "About Friday night..."

Nick finally turned, a cellophane-wrapped toothbrush in his hand. His face was expressionless. "Yeah?"

"Uh, dude, we kinda like...kissed." _More like made out._ "What _was_ that?"

Nick hesitated before saying, "Whattaya mean? We were drunk. It's no big deal."

 _No big deal._ Thank God. Nick wasn't upset. Jeff should've been relieved, but he felt an unexpected twinge in his gut. _No. Big. Deal._ It was like Nick's words had...hurt. Not thinking, he blurted, "Well, _you_ kinda got into it," sounding a little defensive.

"Yeah, well...you're actually a pretty good kisser. For a jerk," Nick chuckled.

 _Yeah, Sterling, a big STUPID jerk._ "Uh-huh," Jeff did his best to smile. "Well, for the record, so are you. For a big dork."

"Gee, thanks." Nick rolled his eyes then turned his attention back to his footlocker. "You know, I still can't believe the way everyone was carrying on. We're best friends. It didn't mean anything. Like the song says: _'Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-al-co-hol',"_ he sang.

_Yeah. Right. It was no big deal._

Slamming the lid closed, Nick changed the subject. "So, we're going into town later, right?"

"Um, yeah, maybe. There's just some stuff I gotta get done first," Jeff evaded, jumping to his feet. He had to get out of there. "See ya."

Before Nick could say anything, he was out the door and walking swiftly down the hall. Now _he_ needed to think. Nick was totally okay with what had happened...leaving Jeff to wonder why _he_ felt even worse than before.

Leaving the dorm, he started wandering around campus. It was a blustery February day and he jammed his hands deep in his coat pockets. With each frustrated breath he blew out a plume of frozen air. _"No big deal," Nick said. "We were drunk. It didn't mean anything."_ The more Jeff thought about it, the more upset he got. And the funny thing was he didn't know why he was upset.

He wasn't sure when he'd walked down the hill, but he found himself outside the athletic center looking at South Pond. He sat down on a bench across from the field house's main entrance. This one was inscribed with _"Claritas"―_ clarity.

 _Ha ha,_ _very funny._

His butt was going numb sitting on the cold marble but Jeff didn't care. He sat staring at the pond's wind-rippled surface, twiddling his thumbs, Nick's words stuck in his head: _It didn't mean anything...no big deal...it didn't mean anything..._

Not to Nick, at least.

He jumped when someone touched his shoulder.

It was Blaine. He always skipped lunch Sundays to get in some solitary gym time. He sat down, flushed and obviously riding a post-workout high, a wide smile stretching his lips. "Hey. How's it goin'?"

 _Dude, dial it down a couple notches, okay?_ "Why are you so cheerful?" Jeff grumped.

"Friday night," Blaine grinned. "I can't stop thinking about it. It was _epic._ My first kiss was with Shane Hardy!" He held his fist out.

Jeff listlessly bumped it in return. "Congrats."

"And, hey, what about you and Nick?" Blaine knocked shoulders with Jeff. "That kiss was totally _hot!_ I mean, it's about ti..." He trailed off when he finally noticed Jeff's stony expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." _Step off, buddy._

"It doesn't sound like nothing," Blaine ventured.

"It...it's stupid." Jeff took a deep breath. "I just thought"― _don't say it, Jeffy―_ "that when Nick and I kissed"― _don't say it don't say it don't say it_ ―"there mighta been...something there." _Bonehead! See how friggin' stupid you sound?_ "Crazy, right?"

He looked over at Blaine. Who wasn't looking at him like he was crazy. Or stupid. "No." His eyes were compassionate as he placed his gloved hand on Jeff's arm. "No, it's not."

An icy blast of wind tore at them.  Jeff's teeth started chattering and Blaine insisted they get out of the cold. He took Jeff inside the field house and they sat in the arena's upper deck.

After a long silence, Blaine made him start talking through everything that had been going on for the past few months. Everything he'd overlooked or ignored. Now he was seeing it. The looks he snuck at Nick. The touches. The constant could-be-interpreted-as-flirty bantering. The warm fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever Nick looked at him with those gorgeous brown eyes.

And that pain in his gut when Nick had told him the kiss was "no big deal".

Jeff couldn't believe it. Everything added up to a crush. And a pretty intense one, too. But that was crazy. He couldn't be crushing on Nick.

Could he?

Because when they'd kissed...it felt like something _special._

But something still didn't make sense: Nick kissing him first. A real honest-to-shit kiss. And that look they'd traded _._ Like he'd liked it _―_ a lot.

At least that's what it had seemed like then. Now Jeff wondered what the hell he'd been thinking. Just because he'd kissed him didn't mean there was anything there. (Even though Nick had sure _looked_ like there was.)

Why was he even worrying about it? Nick had certainly set things straight _―pun intended_ _―_ with that reality check: _"No big deal,"_ Nick had said. _"Blame it on the alcohol,"_ he'd joked _._ And he was right. Nick had been totally shit-faced and probably would've frenched with anyone at that point...

Blaine drew him out of his thoughts by asking, "So what happens now?"

"Nothing."

His flat tone earned him a quirked eyebrow from Blaine. "What?"

"I was wrong. At least the part about him...you know."

Blaine gave him a strange look. Almost like he didn't believe him. "Are you sure? Did you talk to him?"

 _I tried._ "Yeah, we talked. And he blew it off, said it happened because we were drunk. Period. What was I supposed to say after that? 'Hey, bud, actually it turns out I may have a thing for you―and I kinda thought you might be into me, too'?Yeah, right."

"Well, I don't think I would put it quite like _that_ , but he's your best friend. Don't you think _―_?"

"Blaine, trust me," Jeff interrupted, "the absolute last thing you need to do right now is remind me he's my best friend. It's only like my entire problem here―oh, tied with the whole 'he's straight' thing, of course."

"I'm just saying, don't you think he'd want to know how you feel?" Blaine pressed.

"Seriously? _I_ don't even know how I feel! And if I did, there's no way I could talk to him about it." Jeff shook his head, face etched with worry. "What if I tell him and he freaks? Then starts to wonder how long I've been perving on him."

"Oh, come on, Nick would never think _―_ "

"I said _no._ He'd never be able look at me the same way again," Jeff argued. "I'm not gonna risk losing him. Not over a stupid kiss."

Blaine eyed him skeptically. "So...you're just gonna pretend like nothing happened?"

"That's right," Jeff snapped, his eyes starting to prick. "Besides, as far as he's concerned, nothing _did_ happen. It was no big deal."

"And what about _you?_ Can you just act like nothing's changed?"

"Like I have a choice?" He rubbed away the wetness in his eyes. "Okay, can we just drop this? I'll get over it." _I'm gonna have to._ "And you can't say anything about this to him. _Ever._ "

Blaine rolled his eyes. "You know I won't." He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but closed it quickly.

Having a lot more on his mind than why Blaine was acting weird― _seriously,_ w _hat's_ _up_ _with him today?―_ Jeff stood and walked away. Blaine followed, pulling his red knit hat down over his head. When he caught up, he threw a sympathetic arm around Jeff's shoulders.

They were halfway up the hill when both their phones went off. Jeff pulled his out and read the text:

 _Nicky (Sun. 2:42pm): u guys missed the van _ :P _\- up 4 some pizza? - at the centre - meet me by fountain_ :)

Jeff's stomach tensed up. He looked over at Blaine, who was reading at the same message on his own cell.

"So, time to act like nothing's changed," Blaine said, giving Jeff a pointed look.

"Yeah," Jeff replied softly.

 

* * *

 

After Jeff had left his room, Nick let out a heavy sigh.

He felt like total crap. As soon as he'd heard Jeff come in, Nick _knew_ what he'd wanted to talk about. That's why he'd just sat there facing away from him, chewing his lower lip while pretending to look for the new toothbrush he'd already found. Because he wasn't ready to have that conversation. Not now―and maybe not _ever._

He was too afraid of where it could lead.

From the tone of Jeff's voice, Nick could tell he was upset. Of _course_ he was. It wasn't every day your best friend tried to suck your face off.

So before Jeff had been able to ask him that terrifying question " _why?"_ Nick had turned, faced him...and shut him down.

It was better than having to admit to his best friend he'd kissed him because...he'd wanted to. 

When he'd woken up in the middle of the night it was all he could think about...

_...Nick lay in bed as the sun came up, staring at the ceiling and going over what had happened at the party. He remembered when Jeff had pouted so adorably after Shane had kissed Blaine―and how the desire to kiss his best friend had grown so fast and so strong there was no stopping him from doing it._

_He sat and stewed over that realization all through Sunday Service, ignoring the chaplain's generic sermon. He didn't even realize it was over until Andy started nudging him to get up out of the pew._

_He was glad Jeff had skipped. He wasn't ready to see him yet._

_Needing some serious alone time, Nick went down to the field house, changed, and hit the track. Running lap after lap (and losing count somewhere during his fifth mile) he tried to work out what the hell was going on in his head. And may have been going on for_ months _he slowly came to realize. All those times he'd caught himself zoning? He'd been looking at Jeff. Or thinking about Jeff. Like he would think about a girl he liked..._

No. _He was straight and Jeff was his best friend._

_They'd grown up together. For all intents and purposes, they were brothers._

_But guys shouldn't want to go kissing their best friend-slash-brothers, right?  
_

_And if they did, shouldn't they be able to stop thinking about how_ good _it felt...?_

_Dark clouds started rolling in and he quit when the freezing wind started biting his cheeks. Back at the dorm he took a long hot shower, still mulling things over even though he wished the whole thing would just go away..._

After putting the toothbrush in his shower kit, Nick sat at his desk and stared out the window. While watching the clouds scudding by, the answer came to him. The kiss had been caused by the alcohol. No question. And the rest?

Hormones.

Close to four hundred teenage boys boarded at Dalton Academy. They were effectively isolated on campus with little to no contact with girls, right? Right. Teenage boys caught in the throes of puberty had no control over their raging hormones, right? Right. So when faced with the absence of the opposite sex, it only made sense that boys that were straight might start directing those raging teenage hormones at each other, right?

_Right._

And what did you expect? A teenage boy could get a hard-on watching paint dry. If it weren't for the uniform blazers, Nick could only imagine how many boners he'd see every day and― _what the FUCK, Duval?! Why are you_ _thinking about_ that?

No. He was straight. One hundred percent. He and Jeff had a bromance _._ Just like Wes and David _._ That's _all._ The booze had confused things. He'd been drunk and horny. All his inhibitions had gone down the toilet. And Jeff had been sitting there, looking all sexy and stuff. But he could have just as easily kissed Andy or even Cameron.

Plus kissing someone felt good. Really good. _That's why you felt what you felt when kissing Jeff...with his hands in your hair and his tongue doing that thing that―_

"Hey, Duval!"

He jumped, jolted (thankfully) out of his thoughts by a cheerful voice. Evan Farmer from down the hall in 412 was poking his head through the half-open door. He'd seen Nick's name on the sign-out sheet, he said, and wanted to remind him the van to town was leaving in five minutes.

Sighing, Nick pulled on his coat and went out into the hall. After locking his door he automatically turned to Jeff's, which was closed. He knocked; no one answered.

When Jeff wasn't waiting in the van, Nick pulled out his phone _,_ then hesitated. _Well...he_ _did_ _say "maybe,"_ he remembered and slipped it back in his pocket.

During the short ride to Westerville, Evan sat with Nick and talked about his girlfriend the whole time. Nick nodded, barely listening while staring out the window.

The van dropped them off at Westerville Centre, a large outdoor shopping plaza. With all the gingerbread fretwork, old-fashioned lamp posts and wrought-iron benches, it reminded Nick of Main Street USA at Disney World minus the hordes of hyperactive kids. Today the place was practically deserted. He reckoned the cold weather was keeping everyone indoors.

The Dalton boys went their separate ways. After buying a few things at the pharmacy, Nick walked alone past the turned-off-for-the-winter fountain and down one of the "side streets" leading off the central courtyard. His destination was the last store on the right: Time Warp Comics and Games. He paid for his reserved order (a small one this week: just the latest issue of _Doctor Who Magazine)_ and started to browse through the racks.  

After a few minutes, he realized it wasn't any fun without Jeff _,_ who always tried (and usually succeeded) to embarrass him by asking things like "How does Wolverine jack off?" and making lewd comments about the superheroes' bodies.

This wasn't right. Jeff was still his best friend. If things were ever going to be normal again, he knew he had to get past this.

He pulled out his phone and thumbed a text to Jeff _―and_ Blaine, who'd keep things from getting awkward.

 _Me (Sun. 14:42): u guys missed the van_ :P _\- up 4 some pizza? - at the centre - meet me by fountain_ :)

He could feel his heart beating as he pressed "send."

As he waited for an answer, a scary thought occurred to him. What if Jeff hadn't come on purpose? Maybe he'd been been so creeped out by this whole kiss thing, he wanted to keep his distance until he could get his head around it?

_But if that was the case, he wouldn't've tried to talk to me about it, right? He would've laid low, and―_

His phone vibrated.

_Jeff (Sun. 14:44): k bud - b ther in 15 - blaine 2_

Nick let out a deep breath _―_ which he didn't even realize he'd been holding―and couldn't help shaking his head at his overactive imagination. _Jeez, Duval, get a grip! And stop being so dramatic.  
_

He tried to flip through an Avengers graphic novel, but, missing a certain someone hovering over his shoulder and goofing about the "size of Thor's mighty hammer," Nick gave up and left. Outside, he plugged his ear buds into his cell and selected a song: Bon Jovi's "Blood On Blood" (the acoustic version). He sat down on a bench.

"I can still remember  
When I was just a kid  
How your friends were your friends forever  
And what you said was what you did"

Losing himself in the song, he opened the picture file in his phone. Of course, most of the shots were of Jeff. Jeff giving the one-finger salute, Jeff sticking his tongue out. (The jerk almost always mugged for the camera or did _something_ to ruin the picture.)

"Me and Danny and Bobby  
We cut each other's hands  
And held tight to a promise  
Only brothers understand"

Nick absently rubbed the palm of his right hand, fondly remembering that night at the lake he and Jeff had become blood brothers.

"But we were so young  
One for all and all for one  
Just as sure as the river's gonna run"

Nick finally found a nice one. He and Jeff, dressed in tee-shirts and shorts, in the residential quad at Dalton. This year's Labor Day cookout. They were smiling, arms around each others shoulders, Jeff toasting the camera with a hot dog.

"Blood on blood  
One on one  
Still be standin'  
When all was said and done"

Nick smiled, remembering what a great time they'd had. He passed more Jeff-ruined pictures then came to some Blaine had taken on Friday at Regionals. He and Jeff in the lobby of the Aronoff Center, smiling and standing shoulder to shoulder in their Dalton uniforms. The next had been snapped a minute later when they were wearing their Ray-Bans and posing back-to-back like two James Bonds, their fingers in gun-configuration.

"Blood on blood  
One on one  
And I'll be there for you  
'Til Kingdom come  
'Cause we were blood on blood..."

There was one picture left. Nick swiped the screen―and tensed up when it slid into view.

He and Jeff making out. Mouths mashed together. Fingers tangled in each others hair. Some wiseass must've taken his phone during the party and snapped the pic.

Nick stared at it, mesmerized, thoughts whirling. His thumb was poised over the "delete" button; just one touch and it would be gone. And everything could go back to the way it was.

Yeah. Right. He wished it was really that eas―

The ear buds were suddenly ripped out of his ears. _What the hell?!_

Nick looked up. An older boy hovered over him, eyes glaring from behind floppy bangs. The ear buds dangled from his hand.

 _Who's this dick?_ "What's your problem?" Nick asked irritably, not caring that the guy was a lot bigger than he was.

The boy ignored him and poked him in the chest, bullseyeing the school crest on his sweatshirt. "Look here. We got us a little Dalton rich boy here." He looked Nick square in the eye and smirked, "Got any spare change for a poor townie, fag?"

Before Nick could react, a hand reached over his shoulder from behind and snatched the phone right out of his grasp. _Hey!_

Nick twisted around; there was another kid right behind him, a husky, no-necked linebacker type. He looked at Nick's Droid. _"'Fag'_ is right, Chris. Here's a picture of him, mackin' on his boyfriend." He tossed it to his friend. "Ain't it sweet?"

 _Shit._ Nick's stomach clenched. He tried to stand, but the husky kid's hands were suddenly on his shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Get off me, asshole!" Nick struggled, but it was no good; the guy's hands were like twin vices.

"'Asshole'?" The boy named Chris gave him a dangerous look. "Y'know, we're kinda tired of you fairies from 'Gay Hogwarts' flittin' around our town. Here's a message to take back to your friends, homo," he said and yanked Nick up off the bench by the front of his coat...

 

* * *

 

"Where could he be?" Blaine wondered.

After receiving Nick's text, Jeff and Blaine had driven the short distance to town. A result of being held back a year after his assault, Blaine was the only freshman at Dalton Academy with driving privileges. He'd turned sixteen and gotten his license back in November. Two weeks after his birthday, a red 2010 Jaguar XK convertible had been delivered to Dalton by a dealer in Columbus as a late birthday present from his appearance-obsessed absentee parents.

The two boys were standing by the fountain in the courtyard. There were a couple of people walking around, but Nick was no where in sight. Jeff double-checked his last text: _at the centre - meet me by fountain._

"I dunno. That comic-book store of his is down that way." He fired off a quick text: _wher r u?_

He stared at the phone, waiting for a reply. An uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut. (Or, as Nick would say, his "Spidey-sense" was tingling _._ ) _  
_

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine start waving at someone. _Nick?_ He whipped his head around to see. No, it was Shane, coming out of the pizza place with a couple of seniors. Shane waved back and all three started walking toward them.

Jeff dialed Nick. The phone rang. And rang. _Come on, man._

He was distracted by the faint sound of music playing.

"I am, I am, I am Superman  
And I know what's happening"

R.E.M.'s "Superman". A chill prickled down Jeff's spine.

"Superman" was the ringtone for his number on Nick's phone.

"I am, I am, I am Superman  
And I can do anything"

Jeff slowly walked in what sounded like the right direction until Nick's voicemail picked up and the music stopped. Jeff ended the call and re-dialed, impatiently waiting for the song to play again. It did and, with Blaine right behind him, he followed the tinny melody right to Time Warp Comics.

He saw a cellphone lying on the ground under one of the benches and squatted down to pick it up. It was Nick's. Through the cracks crazing the screen, he could make out a picture of his own face.

He tensed when a hand touched his shoulder. "Jeff," Blaine said uncertainly, pointing to a couple of bags on the bench, one with a _Doctor Who_ magazine hanging half out.

Trying not to panic, Jeff swept the area with his eyes. _Dammit, Nicky, where are you?_

Shane cocked his head, like he'd heard something. He started swiftly walking in the direction of the service alley beyond the comic book store _._

A second later Jeff heard it, too, faint but clear in the crisp winter air.

Scuffling feet. A cry of pain. Cruel laughter.

Jeff had heard sounds like that plenty of times back in junior high. Up close and personal. After he'd come out _._

_No..._

He sprung to his feet and took off running toward the alley. He knew what he was going to find even before he rounded the corner. He flew past Shane just as the older boy saw something that made him stop and shout, _"Hey!"_

It was Nick. Blood running from his nose. Arms pinned behind him by some thick-necked fucker. Being punched in the ribs by a skater punk.

Rage burned through Jeff's body. He ran faster, sidestepping a bicycle rack, hurling himself at the puncher, screaming, _"YOU FUCKIN' SONUVABITCH!"_ as he tackled him to the ground and started whaling on his face.

The rest of the Dalton boys weren't far behind. The guy holding Nick decided to slow them down by shoving Nick directly at them while tripping him up at the same time.

Nick stumbled and fell _―_ his head hitting the bicycle rack on the way down.

Hearing the sickening sound of Nick's skull smacking solid metal, Jeff twisted around in time to see Blaine catch him before his head hit the pavement. He paused for a half a second then redoubled his effort to smash his guy's fucking face to a fucking pulp. _You mother! _―__ punch _ _―_ fucking! _―__ punch _―asshole!_

The big guy turned to run but Shane blocked him and landed a solid right hook. He managed to duck Shane's second punch and sprinted away. Shane's friends (John and Scott Crater, the identical twin co-captains of Dalton's varsity wrestling team) took off in pursuit.

Jeff was throwing punches like a machine when someone grabbed him from behind and pinned his arms down against his sides. "Jeff, _stop it!_ You're gonna kill him!" Blaine shouted in his ear as he pulled him off the bloody-faced punk. While Jeff struggled wildly, the guy managed to climb to his feet and lurch off.

Jeff threw off Blaine's grasp and almost tore off after Skater Boy when a glance at Nick stopped him in his tracks.

He was lying on his back, a huge, ugly bruise already forming on his temple and― _OH, GOD―_ Jeff's breath hitched when he saw the blood streaming from a gash in his scalp. Shane had seen it, too; he quickly knelt at Nick's side and pressed a wadded-up scarf over the wound.

Jeff ran over and dropped down next to him. "Nicky?"

"Mm okay." Nick tried to prop himself up with his elbows, but his eyelids fluttered and he sank back down.

"...I'm not sure. Fourteen, I think. Right. No. No, he's conscious," Jeff heard Shane saying as the older boy spoke urgently into his cell. "No, he's moving. He just tried to sit up and almost fainted."

While Shane listened to the reply, Nick was determined to get up and tried again by rolling onto his side. Shane abruptly said, "Yeah, okay," and put his hand on Nick's shoulder, gently but firmly rolling him back. "Hey, let's stay still, little guy. Just wait for the ambulance, okay?" He went back to talking with the 9-1-1 operator.

 _It's all my fault. It wouldn't have happened if I'd just fuckin' been here._ Jeff tried to push those thoughts away. He actually managed to sound reassuring as he said, "Everything's gonna be all right. Shane called nine-one-one. The ambulance'll be here any minute."

Nick nodded slightly, then winced in pain. Jeff's eyes fell on Shane's scarf, which was wet through with blood.

He swallowed and kept up the calm voice. "Hey, remember the last time we got to ride in an ambulance? After we jumped off the garage roof when we were...what, six?" Young Jeff and Nick had wanted to see if their Superman Halloween costumes would allow them to fly. Needless to say they didn't. He'd needed seventeen stitches in his scalp and broken his arm while Nick ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a fractured wrist.

"Yeh, playin' Superman," Nick replied thickly, managing a smile. "Don't worry, y' jerk."

Jeff managed to smile back. "Who's worried?"

The smile faltered when Nick's eyes closed and didn't reopen. "Nicky? Wake up." Jeff urgently patted his cheek. "Come on, man, you gotta wake up."

Face tight, Shane leaned in and shook Nick's shoulder. "Nick, are you okay? Can you hear me? C'mon, stay with us now."

No response.

Jeff was barely aware of Shane relaying this development into his phone. His heart was hammering and his throat was tightening and suddenly there was no air. _No no no this isn't happening. This isn't happening this isn't happening THIS ISN'T HAPPENING! C'mon, you big dork, you were okay you were just talking to me so stop fooling around and_ wake up _just open your eyes and oh God don't do this he's gotta be okay you gotta be okay baby please be okay―JESUS CHRIST! WHERE THE FUCK'S THAT FUCKING AMBULANCE?!_

He felt Blaine rubbing his back, heard him say that it was going to be okay, that Nick was breathing, and realized he must've shouted a decent portion of that out loud.

A siren was wailing in the distance. He took Nick's hand and squeezed hard. When Nick's fingers twitched and weakly squeezed back, Jeff started breathing again.

They stayed that way until a uniformed woman separated their grip, gently wiped the tears from Jeff's face, grasped him by the shoulders, and guided him away to tend to his bruised and battered hands...

 

* * *

 

Jeff hated hospitals.

For the second time in two years, he found himself in an emergency room. But, in a messed up, ass-backward sense of _déjà vu,_ he was the one sitting in the bedside chair this time while Nick lay in the bed.

Besides giving Nick a concussion, those assholes had banged up his face, fractured two ribs and sprung the cartilage between two others. He'd been admitted and the doctor had said he would be out in two days, three at the most.

Blaine, Shane and the Crater twins had given statements to the police and stopped in to see Nick before heading back to campus. Jeff had eagerly told the cops everything he knew. Especially how he'd tried to fuck the one guy up worse than _he'd_ fucked up Nick. ("Should make him easier to find," he'd insisted with a grim smile.)

Nick's parents were away on some business trip and couldn't make it to Ohio until late tomorrow. After conning the hospital staff into thinking he and Nick were brothers, Jeff had called his own parents to fix things with the almighty headmaster so he could stay. No _way_ was he leaving. Nick had done the same for him.

But it wasn't _only_ because of that _..._

The pain medication made Nick drowsy and he kept nodding off. As a precaution, a nurse would come in every hour and make sure he could be woken; though Jeff knew it was necessary, his nerves were shot and he had to keep from shouting " _Jeez, just leave the poor guy alone."_

When his stomach started gurgling, Jeff went in search of food. Just his luck, the cafeteria was closed. He ended up raiding some crappy vending machines for supplies. He made sure he got plenty of Plain M&Ms for Nick; the so-called dinner they'd given him made the food at Dalton look like _haute cuisine._

Jeff came back and found Nick sound asleep. He didn't wake up when Jeff dumped his armload of junk food on the overbed table. Grabbing the TV remote, Jeff climbed up onto the bed, settled in next to Nick and tore open a mini-bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. He channel-surfed until he came across a good _Friends_ rerun. The one with the prom video. Cool.

He'd come in right at the best part _ _―__ the gang was watching the video and ragging on Monica about her weight back in high school. She whined that the camera added ten pounds. Then Chandler nailed her with one of Jeff's favorite zingers of all time: _"So_ how many _cameras are actually on you?"_

Any other time, he would've been laughing his ass off. But this time he wasn't even paying attention.

Nick had shifted in his sleep and was currently curled up against him. Jeff wasn't aware of anything but the weight of Nick's head on his chest and the faint-but-steady movement of his body as he breathed.

He was feeling protective, but was afraid putting an arm around Nick's shoulder might cause him pain; instead, Jeff took his hand and gently interlaced their fingers. A perfect fit.

He looked down at that peacefully sleeping face. Even with the bruises, a black eye, and white gauze wrapping his forehead, he thought Nick was...beautiful. He'd gone to town hoping to come to terms with his feelings. Ironically, seeing Nick being beaten up by those guys had showed Jeff those feelings were even stronger than he'd thought.

He sighed. _It doesn't matter. You're best friends._ _That's all you are. Or ever_ can _be._ _Best friends. Period._

On the TV, Rachel, all teary-eyed after finding out Ross had been ready to take her to her senior prom, crossed to him and kissed him hard on the mouth. The studio audience went berserk.

Responding to the noise, Nick made a little humming sound and nestled into Jeff's side.

Closing his eyes, Jeff leaned back into the pillow and whispered, "Nicky, I get it that we're only friends but...I just want you to know somethin'..." He paused, swallowing hard.

"It _was_ a big deal..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt thanks to Shane Hardy, a great friend and great writer who gave me a lot of guidance and tough love to get through this one. I hope he enjoys his debut as a Dalton Academy Warbler!
> 
> For those readers who might want to know what happened after Shane and Duncan adjourned to the other room, I've written a fic that shows just that. Look for it under my stories "Lay Your Hands on Me". It's total PWP. ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thoughts and feelings? Please review.


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